Inktober 2017
by NullNoMore
Summary: A series of super short pieces. Everything written in ink first, photos on request. Heavy on NLA, because I love it. Lots of NPCs and NPC OCs, because I love them (*coughJustincough*). 99% swear free, spoilers are mixed, ranges silly to dark. All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and it was an interesting month.
1. Swift

**a/n: I'm trying Inktober, but with super short stories. I wrote it in ink first, photo on request. #1 - Swift.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to the geniuses of Monolith Soft. Case the Swift is mine.**

* * *

"Come on, Gwin. Race you to the Barista area." The red head had come dancing in front of him as he passed the Interceptor's hangout on Division Drive. Her green eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Case, you in a rush or something?"

"Come on, come on." She darted towards him, then away, like a dog ready for a run.

"Why?"

"I need to practice dodging. Best way I know." At his confused look she settled flat on her feet. "Getting there without hitting a car or barricade or pedestrian."

"Flattening a pedestrian, more like it. You look like you're gonna run right over them."

"Not a Prone. Those big blue boys are **big**. Come on!"

"If you'd just train like a normal person…."

"Not. Normal. You know that." She was skipping in place again, grinning at him.

"Fine. On your marks, get set, … hey!"

She was already off and away, down the long corridor of armored personnel and oversized robot suits. Gwin followed, already smiling at his inevitable loss. He watched her dance around a cluster of waist-high Nopon, duck under a swerving excavation skell, then fling herself off the balcony, arms windmilling until she landed with a roll on the roadway below. He'd bounced off two fellow BLADEs before he could make the same leap. He was two blocks behind when she turned towards the Commercial District. Shoot, he'd have to buy her both coffee and a pastry.

As he skidded around the sharp left, he saw that she'd stopped. She was chatting with a blond Mediator whose patrol was focused at the fountain. Case patted her friend's shoulder as Gwin approached, then shot off down the street, swift as any Evello.

Gwin snorted. What a show off. He stopped to chat as well (and maybe catch his breath). "Huh. I should have known she wasn't going to give me a real chance."

"Hello, Gwin," the other man greeted him cheerfully. "It does my heart good, to see my fellow BLADEs training to be their best."

"Hello, Justin. I guess." Gwin shrugged, then started moving away from the fountain area. "Gotta go. If she gets too big a lead, I'll need to buy her a full breakfast."

"You do that!" Justin shouted at Gwin's retreating back. "Case deserves a very special treat!" His eyes followed the racers, although he never moved from his spot.

* * *

 **a/n: My real challenge may be keeping everything T. Or K+ if I can swing it.**

 **I'm not ignoring Duna and Wolf. No. Really. This piece will connect to other stuff, as it turns out. And Duna is yelling at me from behind my eyes, so we may get movement this month. Next up (in theory): Divided.**


	2. Divided

**Inktober #2 Divided**

 **a/n: Yup, the love match didn't last.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and I always said that my OC NPC Lila wasn't good enough for Vandham.**

* * *

It took him a moment to figure out what the pounding noise meant. He'd silenced not just his comm device but also his door sensor, in the hopes of powering through today's deluge of information.

Fat chance. He almost didn't know where to begin. Recent disasters proved he needed a better grasp on the Wrothians, their enmity with a good portion of the universe, and the implications for New Los Angeles. At the same time he needed some help on balancing resource requests among the industrialists. Not to mention a basic review of skell technology, from the baby level 20's to the newest suggested collab between Orphe and Meredith…

The pounding hadn't stopped. It didn't sound angry, just a steady dozen beats, followed by a pause, then repeated. He pushed off of his sofa and marched over. He swatted the sensor, ready to bark at the solicitor.

Standing at his doorstep, staring fixedly up at him, was Lila. One fist raised, ready to resume knocking. She held a grey crate balanced on her hip.

"You could have let yourself in," he grunted down at her.

"I wasn't sure the codes were the same."

"I haven't changed them." He stood aside to let her in. "Like that would stop you."

"Let's pretend it would. You should change them."

He pinched the bridge of his nose hard. "Lila, I don't have time right now..."

"I'm just here for my stuff. I won't be here long." She shrugged, slightly hampered by the crate. "I didn't want to do it without you knowing."

"Nice of you."

"You can go back to whatever you were doing." She walked into the bedroom without another glance.

He didn't bother to pick up his comm device. He heard a single drawer being opened. A rustling in the closet. A brief clatter in the bathroom. He hadn't found much of her stuff in his explorations. Was it snooping if it was your own rooms?

He walked into the kitchen. "Want some coffee?" he shouted in her direction.

She exited the bedroom, now with a duffel in one hand as well as the crate. "Yes, thanks. I hope you don't my borrowing this." She lifted the duffel casually. "But let me grab my mugs first." She stood next to him, reaching past him to pull down two mugs. One was anonymous beige with a Sakuraba logo. The other was a textured pale gold with a border of tan rings.

"That one," he said. "I like that one."

"Oh?" She contemplated it for a moment. "I thought you like the Cauldros themed one." She gestured at a similarly shaped mug on the shelf above, shining black with copper designs.

"Second favorite."

"Ah. Then keep them. Both. I've got enough mugs anyway." She stood on tiptoe to place the gold mug next to the black one, close but not touching. Then she walked away to drop the Sakuraba mug carelessly into her crate.

When she came back to the kitchen island, he passed her a mug, neither gold nor black, and watched as she took a sip. They didn't talk. Finally, she put the mug down, still mostly full, and took a deep breath. "One more thing. About the cat."

"What about what cat?"

"Our cat. Your cat. Kitten, really. That's why she's at my station. She needs more attention than you can give right now." He waited for her to expand on the theme, but she only looked away. "I figured I'd keep her for a few more months, until she's older. But you can have her any time you think best."

She put her hands on her hips and scanned his apartment, small but still a luxury. "Not really much else left. Much easier than on Earth." He watched as she swallowed hard, but she continued without any other sign of distress. "There was always so much _stuff_ back home. I watched a college roommate and her ex go through a stack of comic books, issue by issue. They argued over every page of pulp as they divided it up."

It reminded him of something. "That book, about city planning. I took it in to BLADE HQ."

"Oh? Keep that too. You can send it to me when you don't need it. I just used it to fall asleep."

They stood, not quite looking at each other, measuring the lack of things. When he jammed his hands into his pockets, he felt a small metallic scrape. He hastily crossed his arms and frowned.

She smiled at him with tight eyes. "It's working well, sir, this split. People think I'm an idiot, far as I can tell. No one's suspicious, no one blames you, and mercifully no one thinks I'm too much of a creep this time. Better than I hoped."

"I am so sick of people's plans," he spat out.

She shrugged and smiled her artificial smile again. "Well, now you're out of this one." She stooped to pick up the duffel and the crate, then walked to the door.

"You sure you don't want the ring?" he said.

She turned and stared at him, no smile now. "No, you should keep it, Jack." When he flinched, she corrected herself. "Commander. Sir." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just don't know what to call you."

"Neither do I."

"I would have said, tell me when you figure it out. But not anymore." She hitched the crate higher. "I gotta go. Hope I didn't disturb you too much, sir."

After the door slid shut, he slammed back onto the couch. For a moment, he shook his head at nothing, fingers drumming along the sofa back, before reaching for his comm device. At least he could pretend he had a hope of grinding his way to understanding some problems.

* * *

 **a/n: Wahhhhhhhhhh! (Deep breaths, it will get fixed. And if he sounds weird, it's because he isn't quite himself. Oh the stories I haven't finished...)**

 **Next up: Poison. Oh can you not stand it? I have 24 hours to think of something GOOD.**


	3. Poison

**Inktober03 Poison**

 **a/n: The things that Prospectors do for science. Frye gets the wrong idea.**

 **Slight sorrow, did not expect that to show up in story based on silliness.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and let me squee a little about these two. Squee.**

* * *

Frye skidded to a halt in front of the grey gurney holding a floofy blond man. The patient gave Frye a weak wave. "…"

"Phog! Are you okay? Talk to me, buddy. What happened?"

"He's fine. Now. He licked a rock."

Frye looked over at the speaker, sitting in a chair against the wall. Probably another Prospector, based on the quantity of dirt on his knees. The man had been squinting at his comm device, but looked up long enough to glare at Phog.

"I hoped it was poisonous," Phog added helpfully.

Frye shook his head. "What?!"

"He licked a rock to check to see if it was poisonus. It was. We all win. Can I go?"

"I'm here now. I got it," snapped Frye.

"Thanks, Jerry." The other man was already heading for the door, arguing loudly in Chinese at his comm device.

Frye looked earnestly at Phog. His voice was uneven. "Phog, bro, don't do this. You know you can talk to me now if things get bad."

"It wasn't bad. It's great."

"This isn't the way, bro."

"I didn't want to wait, Frye. If the vein turns out to be what I hope…"

"You can't leave me, okay?" They'd spoken at the same time, then stopped and spoke again.

"What?" "What?!"

Frye pushed his hand hard against the scar along one eye. "Why are you talking about veins?" His other hand was gripping the gurney hard enough to turn his knuckles as white as his ice blond hair. "Don't tell me you're cutting yourself too."

Phog blinked at him. "What? No! I meant a vein of rock. Like the one I tested. By, uh, licking it."

"So, no cutting. Just using poison to kill yourself."

Phog's face grew even paler. "No no no, I didn't lick it because I knew it was poisonous. I licked it because I _hoped_ it was poisonous." At Frye's confused look, he continued. "Jerry and I found a vein of a new mineral. I thought it looked a lot like bonjelium. We need more of that, Frye. It could solve a lot of problems in NLA if this mineral has similar qualities."

"Qualities like…"

"Enhancing potential, strengthening skell frames, increasing weapon output. Lots of uses. But you can't really test that out in the field. So, I licked it." Phog blushed. "One other quality is that it's toxic."

Frye sagged against the gurney. Then he reached over and smacked his brother on the forehead. "Why do you _do_ this to me?"

The impending slap fight was cut short by the arrival of a Mim Center technician, carrying a tray with pitcher and cup. She was surprised to see Frye, raising an exaggerated eyebrow at him.

"Frye Christoph. This idiot's brother."

"I see. Well, you'll be pleased to know we were able to clear the poison. However, we'll need to restore a considerable amount of minerals to his system. The clearing process also depleted the calcium and phosphorous in his mimetic fluids."

There was a noticeable whimper from the gurney. Frye interrupted the technician. "Does it have to be an IV? He really hates needles."

The tech had set the tray on a wheeled table. "Don't worry. Oral fluids work just as well. But he will have to drink quite a lot. After he's done with this dose, press the page button and we'll bring a second pitcher. He'll need to drink all of it, mind you."

"I'll get it in to him if I have to sit on him." After the technician left, Frye turned to face a little brother with a very stubborn look on his face.

"Sooner you start, sooner we can leave," said Frye.

Phog shook his head.

Frye pulled a chair and sat right next to the head of the gurney, leaning in close to his brother. "Look, bro, we'll get through this together. How about we both drink it?" Encouraged by Phog's curious glance, Frye went on. "I'll match you glass for glass, whatever it is. We'll get them to bring extra batches." The older man grinned wolfishly. "I've never been out drunk before. Think of this as your chance for glory."

While Phog was still laughing, Frye filled the waiting glass. "I'll even go first, that's what a nice guy I am." After an exaggeratedly deep sip, Frye immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, gagging and choking.

Phog snatched the glass before the rest of the contents could spill onto the floor. While his brother was swearing between coughs, Phog sniffed the glass curiously. Then he smiled. He drained the glass and held it out for Frye to refill. "I was just thinking, I could really go for some milk."

* * *

 **a/n: The one drinking contest Frye has ever lost, and don't think Phog let him forget, if quietly. And why did trauma sneak into my fluff? I blame Frye the Drunken Angst Lord.**

 **A shout out to the Tumblr XCX discord board for coming up with the idea of licking rocks and the motto "Lick the Science."**

 **Next up: Underwater. Not sure, but I may have to leave NLA. NOoooooooo!**


	4. Underwater

**Inktober 04 Underwater**

 **a/n: Lin and 3 OCs go to the beach.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and I'm so grateful they let me watch Roo touch every spot on the map.**

* * *

Lin sat on the beach, staring at the waves, her head resting on her knees. She didn't look away when Neesae flopped next to her, stretching out her long brown legs.

"One hour," Lin said. "They should be coming up soon."

"Good, because I'm bored. No point having a second Interceptor here after we cleared the beach." The older woman examined her boots. "If I had known how dull this would be, I'd have brought my sim suit." She swiveled her head to look along North Point beach. "Where's your alien pal?" She sat up straighter, scanning the scrubby area beyond the sand. "I don't see him."

"He's in my skell, napping." Lin uncoiled herself enough to check the comm device lying next to her. "I filled him full of waffles before the mission. Ew, he's drooling."

"Fattening him up for Thanksgiving?"

Lin blushed and shrunk back into her knees. "No, carb-loading for safety. I knew he'd conk out once I parked the skell." She sighed. "Besides, I'm not making that joke anymore. Elma chewed me out pretty good last time. I was getting tired of it anyway." She doodled a few bespectacled turnips in the sand, mashing each one with her fist before starting the next.

"Ugh, I'm so bored," repeated Neesae.

"You could have gone with Roo to explore the underwater ruins."

"Girl, you think I'd let my braids get wet just to see some old pillars?"

"Wow, that sounded really vain."

Neesae winked at her. "Rosalee's better at close combat. I prefer me a skell."

The two were comparing skell stats, weighing the value of potential versus binding duration, when two figures broke the water's surface. Lin and Neesae had been waiting near a sandstone pillar, but the new pair were further away, almost at the cliff edging the sand. Lin jumped to her feet and ran. She reached them before Roo had finished snorting ocean water out of his nose.

"Waste of time!" shouted Rosalee, flinging her rebreather up the beach and hopping around to remove her flippers. "Waste! Of! Time!"

"What happened? What did you see?" Lin waded into the water to reach Roo. He was still fumbling with his mask, but his normal half-smile was unchanged.

"It was interesting."

"You always say that. What did you find?"

"A barrier!" shouted Rosalee. "There's a freaking green hex barrier that kept us from going more than 100m out. All along the beach. We could see another pillar, just barely, but we couldn't get near it!"

"Like I said, interesting. It extends from surface to floor."

"Typical Pathfinder. Everything's interesting." Rosalee was still spitting and hopping in the sand.

"Are you sure you can't get around it?" asked Neesae, gathering up Rosalee's gear.

"We checked. All of it. Up and down the beach, even to the No-neck. Waste of time!"

Lin left the water to rejoin the other women. "Shoot. Meredith Industries was really hoping to get something useful out of this mission."

Roo was still standing knee-deep in water, staring at the horizon. "I don't know. I'm kind of okay with not learning anything about whatever weapon made the Oblivia gap."

* * *

 **a/n: Well, that got done. Can we go back to NLA now? I'm still glad, because I got a little more feel for Neesae. Roo (my Cross) remains a dorky enigma of a Pathfinder. (Neesae and Rosalee team with Irina in my XCX, and showed up in "The Great Skell Robbery." And Gwin, him too.)**

 **Next up: #5 Long. No clue on this one. Wait, I have a very self indulgent one ... we'll see.**


	5. Long

**Inktober05 Long**

 **A/n: "Hey, what's that over there?" Never say those words around my dork Roo, unless you like swimming.**

 **All the amazing beauty belongs to Monolith Soft.**

* * *

"Nice spot you found us, Roo." Doug thumped the lanky Pathfinder on the shoulder. Elma smiled, then turned her attention to scanning the wide stretch of soft sand.

Only Irina seemed less than impressed by this discovery, a Frotier Nav site on a harmless beach that they'd reached after a long run. Nothing to fight, therefore nothing to care about. She wandered to the water's edge, peering into the distance. "What's that out there, beyond that island?"

Elma had joined her, having finished her scans for any reclaimable objects. "Hmm. Flocks of birds usually indicate land. Perhaps more islands. I'm not sure what that white glow is. It isn't any moon."

"Whoa, buddy, wait!" shouted Doug. Too late. A tall, tan blur had passed the women, diving into the sea and striking out, roughly north, stroke after stroke as he cut through the water.

"Ugh, enough with the swimming already. Roo! Roo, come back!" shouted Irina.

"We should follow him," murmured Elma. She dove into the waves. Doug turned to Irina. "Go on. I got the rear."

"Stupid Pathforkers," muttered Irina as she followed her erratic (and, she swore, temporary) teammate.

Within a few minutes of passing the last island of Primordia, the team reached the start of a string of small islands, really just low mounds of sand and tufty grass peeking over the ocean surface. Roo emerged on each, ran straight for a moment, then dove back in, aiming toward the next. The same happened at the next, and the next. "He could at least ask us," huffed Irina, but the others ignored her. Doug was too busy snagging the odd (and resalable) collectible, while Elma kept her eyes on Roo.

The string of midwater hillocks at last reached a larger populated island. Unfortunately, the populations consisted of attentive, aggressive enemies. The lookouts, mechanical in nature, chased after the team. Retreat would have been wise, since they were unprepared and underpowered, but Roo kept running north, dodging slightly to the right. "Don't engage!" ordered Elma. "Go go go!" She concentrated, and the outlines of the team seemed to blur, hiding them from their opponents. When Irina stumbled in the soft sand, Doug reached to help her up, pulling hard on her elbow.

"I don't need your help," she snarled.

"Prove it and move it," he replied good-naturedly, halting long enough to give her cover.

The island was lousy with enemy, in the air as well as on ground. Luckily, the path Roo had taken had fewer enemies and better cover. For a moment, at the very tip of land, facing three outsized weaponed mech units, Roo hesitated. Then he plunged into the water, swimming off-course for a few minutes, before returning to the low island chain, now mercifully deserted.

They continued their swim as day slipped into night. The quality of the islands was starting to change, the sand growing whiter and finer with each one. The vegetation was changing too, becoming less grassy green and more a pale pearl, with shapes that resembled inverted teardrops. At the end of a longer clear stretch of water, the land rose up sharply. Clearly not an island, this was a whole new continent. In the distance, they could see a wall of bone-white rock formations, curving up around the interior. A huge luminous sphere rested just beyond, clouded and dripping vines or filaments.

The four stood dripping on the shore, surveying the new area. Crab-like forfex danced along the sand, each the size of a largish refrigerator, shells edged in blue.

"Happy now, Roo? Because you know we're going to have to swim back every meter that you…" Irina's complaint dwindled to nothing as the sky suddenly shifted to a deep violet, with orchid pink streaks flickering from sea to sky.

Roo's smile filled his whole face. "Yes, now I am."

* * *

 **A/n: Pre-Chapter 6, so no skells. Roo was one of _those_ Crosses. I'm pretty sure it was his birthday, making him a January baby. "7.25/10 Pointless beauty – Game Informer" (why yes, I am still salty about that review).**

 **Next up: Sword. (Of legendariness, perhaps?)**


	6. Sword

**Inktober06 Sword**

 **a/n: Doug wonders why he paired up with a dork like Roo for a mission. The things he'll do for credits.**

 **Most of the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, but some of it belongs to my favorite podcast.**

* * *

"Come on, man. Just try it." The pleading voice didn't match Doug's burly frame.

"No. It looks like a flashlight." Almost the same height, but more weathered, Roo crossed his arms and looked at Doug stubbornly.

"It's not a flashlight!" Doug sputtered. "This is the best beam sabre Sakuraba has. You're gonna love it."

"Not as much as I love my baby." Roo reached behind his neck to pat the hilt of his longsword.

"Photon swords eat longswords' lunch. Can you do this?" Doug snapped his weapon on ad launched himself into a dizzying spiral of flips and slashes. He landed solidly on his feet. "The mobility lets you get in some meaty hits."

"No, thanks. I'll stick with something I can feel 24-7."

Doug grimaced. "Look, Roo, you gotta at least try it. The mission says so." He recited, "'Defeat seven ictus with a beam sabre.' "

" _You_ do it. I'll be back up."

" _YOU_ signed for the mission. If you don't do it, we don't get the credits. Please, man, think of my wallet."

Roo signed and reluctantly unstrapped his sword. It was solid, a colorful mix of metallic pinks and blues, with a leafy embellishment on the hilt. The scalloped tempered line along the flat of the blade resembled flames. "Be careful with it."

Doug gave a few experimental stabs with it. "Ugh, so heavy. What model is this anyway? The Sakuraba Brickmaster 3000?"

"I think it's Nopon design."

"You _think_?

"I got it off a simius. Not sure who he ate to get it."

Doug nodded. The native animals could eat anything, including armor and weaponry. He'd found some interesting gear himself by defeating the right monster. He swung the sword again. "This is really heavy," he repeated. "How can you possibly fight with this?"

Roo grinned at him. "You just gotta sweet talk it. Call it by its name."

"You name your sword?"

"Hey, swords have souls, unlike flashlights."

Doug rested the sword horizontally in front of him, balancing it on both hands. "Fine. I'll bite. What's its name?"

Roo pursed his lips and concentrated. "Flaming Poisoning Raging Sword of Doom. It's thermal, and I slapped a Virus augment on it."

There was a pause. "You have got to be kidding."

"Excalibur didn't sound awesome enough."

* * *

 **a/n: Why, yes, The Adventure Zone is the most hot-diggity stuff I know of, in the world of podcasts. I made up the sword, and then I stole the name. Honestly, such an awesome prompt, and this was the best I could come up with. Shrug.**

 **Next up: Shy.**


	7. Shy

**Inktober07 Shy**

 **a/n: You know the Phog vs the hot dog thing? This was one of his earlier attempts, before he met your/my/their Cross.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, while Case remains my pretend backup Cross.**

* * *

The copper-haired woman had been watching him for a while. It added to the churning feeling in his stomach. When she started walking towards him, he kept his eyes locked on the store window across the street.

"You're Frye's brother, aren't you?"

"…"

She grinned at him, her nose wrinkling with amusement. "I thought so. What's up?"

"…"

"You look like you need backup. What can I do?"

"… I'm fine, Miss… uh..."

"Case. Case the Head Case." She grinned again, then followed his gaze. "Any particular target?"

Phog managed to shift from foot to foot, but he'd run out of accessible words.

Case stood shoulder to shoulder with him, scanning the street. "Hunting or gathering?"

"Huh?" He glanced down at her, but her flat green eyes didn't waver from the crowds and businesses.

"I see some stores, if we're after shopping." She pointed to a rowdy group of men in body armor. "Or those BLADEs, if we want a fight."

"I don't like fighting!" he squeaked.

"Me neither. At least not with humans," she said with a shrug. "So. It's shopping then?"

"I don't like shopping either." He hung his head.

"It beats fighting. Which store?"

Phog managed to point at the hot dog stand. His cheeks burned.

"That's a relief. I can afford a hot dog. I think. Mustard or ketchup or what?"

"I can buy it myself." His voice dwindled to a whisper by the end of the sentence.

"Send a specialist team, Brother of Frye. No one would ever ask me to analyze mineral formations. Hot dogs I can do." Ninety seconds later, she returned. She poured a fistful of condiment packets into his hands, red, yellow, green. "Dress it up and enjoy," she commanded.

Phog fumbled with the tiny plastic packets, while Case stood patiently, holding the hot dog flat on her palms, forming an impromptu counter. When he reached for the not-at-all-a-sandwich-don't-ever-consider-that, she swept the empty packets out of his hands in exchange. She walked away with the trash, but after dropping it in a bin, she returned to his side. She didn't look at him while he started on his belated lunch, instead staring at the street.

"Thank you," he mumbled around a bite.

"No problem. You're lucky you have a brother like Frye."

Phog swallowed hard. "Because his friends look out for me? Or because he's so amazing?" Phog found he could speak better now that he wasn't starving. But the hot dog tasted faintly bitter.

"No, not that, although he _is_ awesome. But so are plenty of other people in NLA. No, I meant, because he cares about you. He doesn't talk much about you, but I can tell he thinks the world of you."

"He hates me."

Case squinted at him. "Really? I never got that vibe off him. Not really. He's angry, but that's not the same as hate. I know the difference." Her eyes flickered suddenly, and Phog felt the urge to step away. He blinked and tried to examine her more carefully. Her porcelain face held only a broad and innocent smile. "Anyway, hope I was a help, Bother of Frye. Next time you need to go hunting, don't be shy. Whistle for me, and I'll do the dirty deed." She walked away, leaving Phog with more to chew on than the last half of a street hot dog.

* * *

 **a/n: Once upon a time, Frye helped Case after a very bad mission. She thinks he's amazing. He'd keep her as a baby sister in a heartbeat. Written, head canon, but not up. Yet.**

 **Next up: #8 Crooked. OooooOOOOoooo, that holds possibilities, and of COURSE we will be in NLA. Hey, Tobias, want to be in a story?**


	8. Crooked

**Inktober08 Crooked**

 **a/n: Mediator Mara Lara is a true gem. So are some other NPCs, like the beautiful Nopon by the fountain. And Tobias. Gem in the rough.**

 **Major spoilers to Tobias' quest line.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. All of them! No OC's, enjoy the wonder.**

* * *

Mara Lara, 90 kg of Mediator in an exquisitely made-up 180 cm package, stepped between the furious human and his xeno target. He knew both participants from previous run-ins, but had never seen them become violent before. This altercation had clearly gone physical. The Nopon's dainty flower ornament was askew, and her fluffy tuft was mashed flat. Tobias looked even worse, with several wing-arm-shaped prints blazed onto his face.

"Sweet hearts, cool your jets." Mara lifted Miss Warawa in his arms and moved her a double wing-arm span away, while simultaneously giving Tobias an sturdy hip-check that almost staggered the man. "Mmmm, dear, your fur. It's a bit messy," he said in a stage whisper. Miss Warawa hurredly floofed and patted her head tuft back into pink glory. Mara was amused that Tobias whipped out a comb to hastily repair his greasy brown pompadour.

"So much better," Mara enthused. "Now that you are both worth looking at…"

"Marginally," snorted Warawa.

"You want to talk ugly, ya little thief?" snarled Tobias. "How about I find your tax returns and post them on the jumbotron on BLADE tower?"

Mara rolled his eyes. But of course. Money issues, why was he surprised? Tobias was a grifter, the greediest Pathfinder in NLA, and Warawa was a mooch, with a relentless ability to get others to pick up the tab lurking behind her dainty princess appearance. That both could be so hard-working and still so unpleasant was a marvel.

"Unattractiveness is as yet not a crime, dear," Mara said to Warawa, before turning to Tobias. "But theft is. Do you want to make a complaint?"

"You bet I do. This little street rat put up a mission. 150,000 miranium, deliverable to Miss Fatso here. Well, I delivered and she refused to pay up."

"Warawa not fat. Warawa pleasantly upholstered." The Nopon shimmied with satisfaction.

"You're full of lard and garbage, and you gave me diddly." Tobias moved to poke the Nopon, but Mara intervened.

"None of that, now. Miss Warawa, is what he said true?"

"No." Mara looked down at her, his eyebrows arched in patient expectation. "Partly." Mara waited, not even taping his foot. "Mostly. Warawa need the materials and hired the human. But Warawa paid in full."

"She gave me a handful of these!" Tobias flung a half dozen cardboard and foil squares onto the sidewalk. "The best I can do get for these is one credit from the recycling center. Out of pity."

"Don't throw those! They might get dirty!" Miss Warawa wobbled her round body forward to gather them.

Mara was faster, scooping them up. "Tobias, you should recognize these. Miralife cards. I know they aren't quite the rage that they were, but they're still quite popular. They might well be worth the agreed payment of…"

"None of your business," Tobias muttered. "And those are fakes. I'm not stupid. I know what things are worth. Add counterfeiting or copyright infringement to the list of her crimes.

Mara inspected the cards. Truthfully, he hadn't noticed their hand-made status. The illustrations were faithfully detailed, but a closer look at the top one showed Nopon influend in the decorations and definitely in the grammar. "Floaty glowy sky whales not tasty, but song very soothing for molting littlepon."

"Those prototypes! Warawa working on new line of cards, with guest xeno artists. See? See? Even have Wrothian ones." She selected a card with a leonine form, its flowing whiskers and tail longer than a barge. Drawn in a few brush strokes of midnight ink, the sketch hummed with power, a few splatters hinting at the beast's muscles. "Feliciano the All-Seeing, a fine opponent, best surrounded by a large group. The victor receives a prize of great power."

Warawa twisted her face towards the taller humans. "These not forgeries. These original designs. Become very valuable on resale market when series published."

"Right now, they're unauthorized fanart and a waste of paper," snapped Tobias. "I can't sell them for beans."

"Miss Warawa, I'm afraid Tobias is correct. Valuable as these may be in a month, I can't imagine he took a mission for something that wasn't official BLADE credits. Now, be a love, and return the miranium to him." Mara smiled positively, but crossed his fingers.

His apprehension was justified. Miss Warawa burst into noisy tears, flapping her wing-arms over her face and bouncing in agitation. "Miranium already gone. Warawa transfer it to Ma-non ship at once. May May need it."

"Try again. May May's retired," Mara said severely.

"No, no, friend May May intrigued by Warawa's amazing plan and agreed to manufacture it."

"And what is 'it'?"

"Machine to realize all of Warawa's dreams!"

"Endless garbage buffet, probably," snorted Tobias. "I'll take it, whatever it is. Maybe get some of my credits back when I scrap it."

"Noooooooo!" howled Warawa. Upset before, now she was frantic. She bounced back and forth between Mara's and Tobias' knees. "It literally make dreams come true. It do everything that Warawa work so long and hard at. And always not quite manage." She slumped against Mara's boots and wrapped her wingarms tight across her fluffy form.

Mara crouched and placed a large, comforting hand on her bac. He felt the shudders of her breathing. "What does the machine do, exactly?"

"Friends know Warawa work for magazine, right? Miralife4Life. Writing stories, always about the wonderful world of Miralife cards. But stories never good enough. Never match what Warawa sees as she dreams it all."

"The eternal problem of the artist," sympathized Mara.

"This machine can show dreams of Warawa. Of anyone, but Warawa's dreams best dreams, so we not worry about any others. Warawa's stories become alive."

"You're going to make enemy indigen? We have enough of those outside!" shouted Tobias.

"Not make indigen. Make stories to watch and hear and maybe smell a little. Warawa write of nopopotomus but others too stupid to get the good bits. This machine make them feel how amazing to riding one."

Mara gave an involuntary whistle. "Amazing is right. Can it really do that?"

"May May promise it work."

Mara and Tobias exchange a glance "Ma-non tend to be accurate about what they can do."

"Unlike Nopon. Little liars."

"That machine could have incredible impact."

"Yes! Yes! Warawa's stories could inspire everyone. Please, friend not take machine away."

"What am I going to do with a story making machine?"

"Machine not make stories. It just make them easy to see."

Mara contemplated a moment. "You could be a co-owner, Tobias. You could probably use it yourself."

"I don't have any stories! Don't need them. I'm not some ditzy, panhandling fur ball."

"Tobias have no dream? So sad. Warawa feel sorry for sad excuse for human. Life without dreams so terrible and sad."

Tobias huffed. "I got a dream, sister, and it's not a story. It needs credits, not a machine."

"What dream does greasy man have?"

"None of your business."

"No, go on," drawled Mara. "I'm curious now."

The weasel of a Pathfinder crossed his arms and glowered. He finally spat as much as spoke his explanation. "Frontier Nav, okay? My team got killed in the crash, but they were gonna make it something special. Cover interstellar ranges, maybe find the other ECP ships. Nobody believes it, just a few cranks like me, and nobody's gonna fund it. It's on me, ME, to get the credits it needs."

"Oh my," gasped Mara.

"Wow. Human really bad at story thing, even with great material. Lost teammates, so tragic, and wandering caravans of humans, visiting the stars but so alone. Amazing story. Friend Tobias make it sound like junk."

"Shut up, you pathetic piece of…"

"Hush now, children. Mara has had himself a wave of brilliance." The Mediator looked seriously at Tobias. "Miss Warawa is right. Your mission sounds amazing, once you shake it loose from your presentation."

"Words ain't my thing. Get tied."

"What if this machine could help present it better? More clearly and powerfully. Present it to, say, an investor? Or the ECP?"

"I can get the credits on my own. Providing I get paid by clients."

"How about co-workers? How many other people are working on it now?"

Tobias shifted nervously. "One." He looked at his feet. "Maybe two. She might have a friend helping."

Mara glanced down at the Nopon. "Does he have to write anything first? Because maybe you could help."

Warawa flapped upward and her eyes twinkled. "Warawa have sympathy. Writing hard. So hard. Makes whole body hurt sometimes. But friend not need to write. Just have clear dream in head." She dropped suddenly to the ground. "Oh. No. Machine only work for Nopon."

"You said it worked for anyone."

"Nopon anyone."

"Great. An incestuous VR machine for the glorified furbies," Tobias said.

"Warawa not understand greasy man."

"Tobias means that, while the Nopon market is important, it would be better if humans could use it, or at least view it."

Warawa fluttered upward again. "No problem! All peoples can watch. Ma-non projection top notch. But dreaming input is Nopon specific."

A slow smile spread across Mara Lara's. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." He winked at his fellow human. "Tobias, meet your new grant proposal writer."

* * *

 **a/n: Aaahhhhhhh, what is wrong with me. This was supposed to be short. SHORT!**

 **Next up: I don't even want to look... Screech. It's screech.**


	9. Screech

**Inktober09 Screech**

 **a/n: Frye is everybody's big bro in times of crisis. He has the medicine that helps. Also, actual help.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, except for the paper title. That's on me.**

* * *

"Frye, may I have some of that?"

The weathered Interceptor handed over his flask. "Here ya go, pal. Do I know you?" Frye squinted at the newcomer.

The younger man took long pull and wiped his lips. "Mathias. Curator," he said with the formal manners reserved for British barristers and the deeply inebriated.

"All hail the kings of the prime collectibles," cheered Frye. "So, if you don't mind my asking, why are you out here in the parking lot, drinking my liquor, instead of inside the diner, paying the lovely Arya for the privilege of drinking hers?"

"Why aren't you?"

"Banned, duh. You?"

"She said I was too weepy and sent me home."

"Cool. I make a great shoulder to cry on. Tell the Ostrich all your troubles, but hand me back my flask." He deftly retrieved the bottle as Mathis slumped into a patio chair.

"I'm sunk like junk. Srewed like rude. Hosed like …" Mathias paused and scrubbed his face. "What rhymes with hosed?"

"Orange."

"No, it doesn't."

"Silver, then. We're all screwed, boy, been that way for two years. What's critical about today?"

"Not today. Tomorrow. I am silver and orange hosed tomorrow."

"Sounds like Nopon fashion." Frye took a pull from his vodka and paint thinner, ignoring Mathias' outstretched hand. "What about tomorrow has your panties in a twist?"

"I'm presenting a paper at the Curators' Friday symposium. 'Colony fusion and caste differences in northwestern Primordian insects, as mirrored in hive architecture.' It's kind of a big deal to me."

"Uh huh," Frye said blankly.

"A really big deal," Mathias repeated. "If I can impress my superiors, it could be a big help for my future."

"Ugh. I'd rather lick grexes than … well, you get my drift."

"But it's so interesting! I've worked for months on this presentation, and it'll be a dud. I know it."

"Hey. The title's plenty impressive. Just say the whole thing twice without taking a breath and you'll knock 'em dead."

"No one is going to come. All four of the team leaders found excuses. My own team won't come. Gwin won't come."

"No big loss there. So, you want me to find some warm bodies to fill the seats?"

Matthias shuddered. He glanced at Frye's patio buddies, all of them three sheets to the wind, gesturing, fighting, drooling. "No, I'm good. I'm doomed but I'll survive."

It was too late. Frye already was tapping on his comm device, and an answering ping sounded a few seconds later.

"I got you one audience member, at least. An enthusiastic one to boot. I texted my bro to see if he wanted to come. Just look at his reply."

Mathias looked at the screen. " _…..yes"_ He sagged lower. "That doesn't sound like much."

"Let me translate." Frye stowed his device and grinned, then pumped his fists in the air, giving an ear-splitting screech. He dropped his hands and grinned again. "Phog must be pretty psyched. Usually he just texts 'y' or 'n'." There was a second ping. "Huh, what's this now? 'Orphe.' That mean anything to you?"

"Oh. My. Gosh!" Mathias slowly rose to his feet, his eyes round. "The Orphe would be an amazing audience for the topic. I never considered the xenos. And if they came, at least one of the supes would have to show, to demonstrate cross-species solidarity and so on."

"Throw in some pizza and you'll get some squeakies too."

Mathias shook Frye's hand deliriously. "Thank you. Thank you! You're brilliant. I'm saved!" He stopped and looked around wildly. "I need to go. I need to start contacting people."

Frye watched him speed away. He shook his head with disgust. "Anything to help. Just wish it had been before you drank half my bottle."

* * *

 **a/n: Pizza will also lure in graduate students. I need to get out of NLA again.**

 **Next up: Gigantic. Well, either I write about Squaretache or I leave NLA.**


	10. Gigantic

**Inktober10 Gigantic**

 **a/n: Doug and crew consider which gigantic foes still give them the shivers.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. Their enemy design team is aces, whooooo! They let me create Roo as my dork Cross and have my thanks.**

* * *

"Tyrant that gives me nightmares?" Doug leaned back on the barracks couch and scratched his sideburns, considering a moment. They'd finished a group movie night, featuring zombies and (of course) skells. Lin had declared it nightmare fuel, but Alexa had pointed out that the planet had much worse. "Huh. Gotta be that vigent out in Oblivia. Barnabas. Ugly cuss, like a cross between a wolverine and King Kong. First time we went up against him, his claws sliced right through my skell before I got my first shot in."

"Skell killer, muttered Alexa. "Putting my precious babies in danger."

"I was more worried he'd take my leg off. I swear, I felt the edge skim my knee, right before I hit eject. Hopped a ride on a teammate's skell and we booked it out of there."

"Really? I'd expect you to choose something like the No-Neck," said Lin. No-Neck being a tyrant, resembling an oversized brontosaurus with a missing head and seemingly endless health. Also, gravity defense that ended most missions before they began.

"Naw, that one's cool. Gigantic, sure, but you know where you stand with him."

"Dead," snorted Alexa.

"Pancaked," agreed Doug with a smile. "What about you, Alexa?"

"I haven't gone against as many as you guys have, but I'll admit I've had a nightmare about the walking forest called Yama."

"He does have a tendency to swat anything with ether weapons. Like certain skell models I could name," laughed Doug.

"Hey, hey! We still won. Eventually. What about you, Lin?"

Lin looked uncomfortable. "Heyreddin. He's so close, right outside the city gates, and he's got all those arms, and…" She hunched over her cocoa.

"Moving on. Roo, what about you?" Doug said quickly.

Roo had been staring at Lin and looked up in surprise. "I don't know."

"Dude, you've been stomped on or eaten by half of Mira. Try to narrow it down to five."

Roo's eyes darted back and forth. "Lepyx," he finally blurted. "The one that's also near the gates."

"Sirene? That's one's dinky!" shrieked Alexa. "I bet Doug could bench press it." When Doug did an exaggerated flex, both she and Lin giggled.

"It creeps me out," muttered Roo.

"But Alexa's right, Roo. Lepyx aren't much of a problem, not even Sirene, the Lost," said Lin.

"It was the first one I felt small against." Roo fell silent. It was the first fight he hadn't been sure he could win. He'd watched the coppery scales of the indigen's legs shift as it stretched up and up, blotting out the sky, before snapping back to the ground, sending Roo flying. He wasn't a BLADE yet, just an anonymous refugee with hand-me-down weapons from other, less lucky soldiers. He couldn't figure what his rescuer meant when she screamed at him about targeting. The knees of the enemy glowed a mesmerizing green, and he hadn't wanted to look at them at all, much less aim for them. When Elma managed to slice one open, Roo had been too nauseated by the spurt of sickly fluid to appreciate that they'd finally gotten an advantage against the monster. This miraculous new world, full of wonders, had turned on him and he'd known how small, how unimportant he was.

He'd hated other types of enemy, getting his revenge through repeated quests to clear them, or flinging himself at them over and over until he was the victor. But lepyx, part giraffe, part pearly slug, mild-mannered and slow, those he still wasn't happy to engage. He shook his head, noticing that the others were staring at him. He gave them a wry half smile. "You never forget your first."

* * *

 **a/n: I had nothing. NOTHING. Then my part-hero, part-hobo Roo said something, but only to me. And now you.**

 **And I get to write brontosaurus and mean it! My childhood has been vindicated. Enough with this apatosaurus nonsense, pfui!**

 **Next up: Run. Oh, that could be good.**


	11. Run

**Inktober11 Run**

 **a/n: Roo loves him a ridiculous coffee drink. Case doesn't care. About anything.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and thank you for making me feel for my two Crosses.**

* * *

Roo flopped onto the barracks' orange sofa, sucking contentedly on a buttered iceberry latte double shot frappe. He looked over at the smaller soldier huddled at the end. No, huddled was the wrong word. She sat with back straight, hands resting lightly on her knees. Roo listened to her careful breathing. In. Out. Repeat. Her eyes were open, but she hadn't acknowledged him at all.

Roo took a long and juicy sip before greeting her cheerfully. "Case, right?"

She nodded.

"What're you up to tonight? Me, I'm caffeinated past my ears. These things are good."

"I just finished clearing a mission in Noctilum. I'm trying to convince myself to go to bed." She continued to stare straight ahead.

Roo considered this. "What was the mission?"

"A request from a small Nopon caravan."

Roo grinned. "Nopon. Why'd it have to be Nopon?" he quipped. "Fluff city. What did they want you to collect?"

"It was a distress call."

"Ah."

The conversation continued slowly. Case's answers grew shorter, and Roo's slurps sounded more like sighs. "Rescue or recovery?" "Recovery." "Survivors?" "None." "Indigen?" "Prone."

After a long pause, no slurping, Roo asked carefully, "Cooked?"

"No."

"… Whole?"

"No."

Roo set his cup down with a hollow rattle. He opened his comm device and swiped for a moment. Then he shut it down and jumped to his feet. "Come on. Gathering mission in Oblivia. Let's go."

Case looked up at him. Her face was so pale, it was clear that she never had and never would have a single freckle. "Let me get my skell."

"Naw, skip it. Let's run. If we leave now, we can stand in the middle of the river and watch Majora before it fades behind the Great Ring."

* * *

 **a/n: My two Crosses, Roo (770 hours and counting) and Case the Head Case (ready for my imaginary second playthrough, XCX PORTANDA EST). I'm thinking that H.B. kicked Case loose after the mission without checking on how she was doing (jerk).**

 **Next up: Shattered. Oh great, I thought I was safe with "run" as a prompt, but this screams "angst."**


	12. Shattered

**Inktober12 Shattered**

 **a/n: Super short story with Frye rescuing another patron of the Repenta. Not exactly sure who he saved, but he only made one friend. Yeah! Frye needs friends.**

 **Alcohol and something not nice. I removed the swears, put them back in as you see fit.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, foremost of which is Frye. My imaginary Cross Case is lucky that he's around.**

* * *

The glass hit floor with a bang, audible above the noise at the diner. Pieces skittered between the patrons' feet, one coming to rest at the tip of Frye's boot. "I didn't do it!" he shouted cheerfully. He wasn't the only one. He picked up the sharp splinter carefully.

By the bar, a female BLADE was facing off against an older man. He was probably the glass' former owner, guessing by his flushed face. Maybe it was only flushed from alcohol. Then he grabbed at the woman. She tensed her shoulders and took a steadying step backwards.

"I think this belongs to you." Frye waved the shard in the man's face. He'd shoved himself between the two. "Gotta watch out for these. You can get a nasty scar. See?" He twisted his bad eye toward the other. "Unless you want one, you should piss off."

The man stood a moment, bumping chests with Frye, until he gave a disgusted snort and walked away, ranting uncharitably about many things. "You can stand down now," Frye muttered to the woman behind him.

He turned to look at her better. Her jaw was tight. He stared into the cloudless green of her eyes until she blinked suddenly. He didn't stop the staring match until she had unclenched her fists and stepped out of attack pose.

"There you go. I was afraid you were going to kill him. Were you?"

"No. I don't know. I don't think so. No." Her eyes wrinkled in concern. "Could I have?"

"Probably not. They have pretty good bouncers. I should know." He grinned ruefully. "They'd have stopped you. This is a good place to drink."

The manager had drifted closer, polishing the bar with fierce suspicious swipes.

"Another round, Arya. For me and my new best friend …"

"Case."

"My new friend Case." Frye laid the piece of shattered glass onto the bar. "Please?" he added with saccharine sweetness. He turned back to Case. "So, ya wanna get plastered with an expert?"

Her face was regaining a touch of color. "Teach me, senpai."

* * *

 **a/n: May I offer "Reaper Man" by Mother Mother as Frye's internal playlist? Had that on loop, until I was done. Then I listened to "Voidfish (plural)" by Rachel Rose Mitchell to feel better (?).**

 **I have spared you the details of the mission Case just left, but it involved my recurring villains, the Dog Squad. So far: they have been punched by Doug (Noctilum Picnic), Irina/Rosalee/Neesae/Gwin/Nagi/some xenos (Great Skell Robbery), probably Gino/Ricky Bobby/Lara Mara (Rosalee and Lucky). They will get punched by Case. Eventually, I hope to have some Marnuck eat them, but I might not manage that.**

 **Next up: I don't want to look. Teeming.**


	13. Teeming

**Inktober13 Teeming**

 **a/n: Field trip with Frye, Roo, Case and Mathias.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, who gave me a chance to imagine my two dorks, Case and Roo.**

* * *

"Are you sure this is the place, Frye?" Mathias asked nervously.

"That's what it says in the notes. Whatever's on your Curators' daily wish list is most likely in there." The team considered the cave's entrance for a moment.

"It looks like a mouth. With fangs," commented the youngest BLADE, a coppery-haired woman. Matching stalactites and stalagmites formed a set of bestial jaws at the entrance. She smiled. "That's kind of cool."

"You're gonna love it," Frye assured her. Beside him, Roo, the fourth member of the party, nodded enthusiastically.

They clambered towards the main cave. Suddenly, Frye broke into a run, leaping onto the back of the lanky Pathfinder at the point of the group. He sent Roo sprawling into the dirt. They rolled around, flailing.

Roo managed to sit up, with Frye still pinning his leg. "What was _that_ for?"

"I know you and collectibles. Mathias needs to go in first to examine them, before you go into suck-em-up mode."

"Aw, man," whined Roo. The freeing shove he gave Frye was amicable.

"Are you sure? About my going first?" questioned Mathias.

"Hey, you have me and Case to save your carcass if anything goes boo."

"And me!" said Roo.

"And him. Are you helpful?"

"Absofluffylutely. I got us here, right?"

Usually it takes a while for eyes (even mim ones) to adjust to a cave's dim light. This cave, however, was broad and brightly lit by the glint of dozens and dozens of collectibles.

"Wow. This place is teeming with goodies," said Case in admiration.

"Shhh! Watch! Mathias!" Frye hissed at her.

Mathias' mouth had dropped open, and his body was rigid with excitement. He clutched his comm device to his chest. "There's … there's so … there's so much stuff in here!" His voice rose in an excited squeal, then was suddenly muffled. Roo stood beside him, one hand firmly slapped over Mathias' mouth, the other hand pointing to a hulking giant indigen, sleeping in the center of the cavern. It sat, slumped forward, its massive hands resting on the floor, its wedge-shaped head resting on its chest.

Frye was doubled over with laughter at Mathias' strangled gurgles, as curiosity and fear tried to escape from behind Roo's hand. Case smiled too, but she had her weapon drawn. "No, no, kid, put that away. I'm not saying we're safe, but Buchwald sleeps through most visits. Mathias, get going. I wanna be back by happy hour."

Mathias made a systematic sweep of the cave, noting each collectible as he went. Both Roo and Case were dancing with impatience by the end. They started doing speed drills at the entrance, sprinting as fast as possible before launching into a leap at the cavern wall. Frye stuck by Mathias, though, never taking his bulky gatling gun out, but never taking his good eye off the hulking, troll-like monster, snoring away, surrounded by a clutter of shipping containers.

Finally, the location was clear of collectibles, except for a dainty ring circling the cave's guardian. Mathias tapped his comm device. "We're six short. We'll have to send a team back tomorrow."

Frye took a calculating look at the scene. He led Mathias back to the cave entrance. "Here's the plan. Case, you stick with Mathias here. If something happens, get him out." Case's face went blank and she moved protectively in front of the Curator. "Roo, you up for a race?"

"Yyyyyyyyes!" Roo bounced on his toes, then dropped into a racer's crouch.

"Not here, you goon. We'll start from the back and head straight for the entrance. Case, start moving before we reach you, got it?"

"Got it."

Frye and Roo moved together around the giant, keeping closer to the cave walls than was necessary. Frye wasn't in the mood to trigger anything by accident. "I'll break left, you go straight, then right. Every collectible, then we split. On three." Frye counted off on his fingers. He was racing flat out, but Roo had already grabbed the center crystal and had swerved off on his own route before Frye reached his first prize. Roo was proving that if Pathinders knew anything, it was how to run. This close to the indigen, its breathing filled Frye's ears, and he could feel waves of animal heat. No motion, though, and Frye hoped that they'd manage to avoid any conflict through their speed. Then he tripped.

He tried to roll away from the indigen, but he still bounced off one massive bent knee. That did it. The beast howled and stretched its muscled arms upwards. The backwards jabbing claws of its fists scraped the cave's ceiling. Frye didn't stop to watch the downswing. He aimed himself straight for the exit.

Case passed him on his way out, running back in, towards the beast, rifle drawn but not firing. Yet. Frye grabbed Mathias' arm and dragged him completely out of the cave, then kept going.

"Shouldn't we go …" gasped Mathias, twisting to look back.

"She's on it. Look, here they come."

Case and Roo burst out of the cave, side by side, as bellows and rocks followed them. Frye hoped they were only rocks. Indigen flung other things at times.

When they reached their skells, Frye and Roo handed the collectibles over to Mathias. "They may have gotten a little shaken. Not stirred." Frye laughed.

"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," Mathias reassured him.

"Check them anyway. If we need to send another team, we need to send another team."

While Mathias was logging their haul, Roo smacked Frye on the shoulder. "Ostrich Man, you need better dodging practice."

"You saying we need to run that cave again?"

"Nope. Meet me and Case at the Mission Board tomorrow at 1700. We got a game we play."

* * *

 **a/n: *cough*Inktober01*cough* They're gonna shake Frye down for ice cream when he loses. And, once again, Mother Mother "Reaper Man" is my suggestion for Frye's theme song.**

 **Next up: Fierce. Aw yeah. I can sense incoming Rosalee & Irina. Gotta keep it shorter, because I'm busy busy busy tomorrow.**


	14. Fierce

**Inktober14 Fierce**

 **a/n: People are flocking to the 2nd Annual Day of the Dead Party at the Repenta Diner. 100% Frye free.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and Rosalee and Lucky are my pale attempt of adding population. Fierce pale attempt.**

* * *

"Hurry up, Gwin. I am not going to miss this year's party." Irina's face belied her fierce voice. Her silver eyes glinted with amusement as Gwin bumbled around his tiny room.

"I just need a sweater or something." He dove deep into his locker.

"Wear this ugly thing." She picked up an abandoned garment and tossed it at him.

He sniffed the red and blue striped sweater. "Maybe not."

"Evans, you are disgusting."

"No, it's fine. Just smells like oranges." He slipped it hastily over his head. "Let's go."

Xcxcxcxcxcxcxcx

Rosalee stared at the mirror. This would be the second year that she and her brother hosted the Day of the Dead party at the Repenta. She'd been running since before dawn, getting the last details ready. She'd had time to get dressed for the event, but once the doors opened, she'd been busy, greeting the steady arrival of guests. If she wanted to touch up her make-up, she needed to do it now, before the crowd grew too lively.

First the eyes. Her eyelashes were sharp, but an extra layer of liner never hurt. She winged them out, accentuating her already wide dark eyes. Her cheeks could use a little dusting of bronze highlighter, although her cheekbones would never be prominent like her brother's. Finally, she carefully added more liner around the red adobe base of her lipstick. "Make the M fierce enough, mija," her mother used to say, "and men will remember what you say until they die." She pushed the peaks of her top lip a little higher. She'd dropped enough hints, tried enough casual suggestions, for a year now. She was done with subtle. She stroked the golden hoops at her ears. Tonight, she wanted to be heard.

Xcxcxcxcxcxcxcxcxc

Ignoring the crowd, Lucky stood speechless in front of the ofrenda. If last year's had been strong, this one's was fierce. Not just a table, it was a mountain for photos, reaching to the ceiling, one hundred candles shining among the silver frames. Last year, the flowers had been clumsy, even if they glowed with alien beauty. This year, his sister had prepared. She had somehow found someone who could cultivate marigolds, and they'd brought in armloads that morning. The yellow and orange flowers were strung in swags, pouring along the table top, winding between the platters of fruit. He noticed another change: the sugar skulls. They still were a riot of decorations over bone white bases, enhanced with tinsel in purple, green, and gold. Now they came in slightly different shapes. The wider one, decorated with pastel colors, were probably Nopon inspired, while the ones with fangs were clearly Wrothian.

He blinked suddenly. He didn't have time for this. He had a guitar to re-tune, a second set to reorganize, a temperamental saxophonist to cajole. He shouldn't spend time staring like a gaping tourist. But he couldn't shake the feeling that he was remembering more than last year's display.

* * *

 **a/n: Shameless plug time. 1. Case uses an overly fruity shampoo. (Telephone 3) 2. Rosalee is wearing really tight skell pants. Again. (Day of the Dead) 3. Lucky misses his brother. (Rosalee and Lucky)**

 **Short, but this one means so much to me. I don't know why. Probably because I love Case, Rosalee and Lucky more than I ever expected.**

 **Next up: Mysterious. OOooooooOOOOooooo. Why do I suddenly have the urge to write Nopon?**


	15. Mysterious

**Inktober15 Mysterious**

 **a/n: Why did Roo have to choose Doug for a mission? Doug is tired. Still, missions with Roo are rarely dull.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. They are not to blame for my Cross, Roo.**

* * *

"Roo, man, you're killing me," Doug groaned. "I just got off a mission. All I wanna do is…"

"Romance your couch, I get it," Roo assured his friend. "I can see you sagging underneath all that armor. But I really need backup."

"Pick up a casual."

"I need someone I can trust. Also, someone who will work for free." Roo scratched one ear. "Payday is a long way away."

"No."

"Lemme try it Lin-style." Roo dropped to his knees, opened his narrow blue eyes a tad wider and waved one finger in the air. "Pleeeease? It would be so cool."

Thus Doug soon found himself flying across the ocean, tucked in the back jump seat of Roo's skell. "You know I hate you," he muttered over the intercom.

"You could take a nap." Roo's voice was distracted. "But whatever you do, don't kick the box."

Doug looked at the box strapped into the other seat. Unmarked, white styrofoam, big enough to hold a soccer ball. It wasn't ticking. He closed his eyes, lulled by the gentle swerving of the skell. Must not be in a hurry, he mused, if the Pahfinder was sweeping colletibles along the way. He dropped off.

"Yo! Wing man! We're here." Roo's crackling voice woke Doug up smartly.

They'd landed in Sylvalum, the white land where nothing grew in the ash-fine dirt but inflatable mushrooms. The skell was parked at a Harrier' station, and Doug greeted a few colleges while Roo waited patiently, box under his arm.

They trucked up a hill, and Doug noted the enemy up ahead. "What are we targeting?"

"Nothing. Dude, I didn't bring you for your guns. Well, not those ones." Roo grinned.

They snuck past three uninterested guards (sloppy security, Doug noted critically, not that keen security was preferable) and reached a sheer wall. "We're here. Give me a boost," said Roo.

"What?"

"I can't climb all the way up, so you'll need to give me a good starting shove."

"Le'ts get the skell."

"No. Last time, I aggravated some new guards and ended up spending all my time fighting. Come on. Alley-oop me."

Doug rolled his eyes and crouched, linking his fingers together. Roo ran at him, timing his jump perfectly as Doug rose up. The Pathfinder flew into the air, grabbing the edge of a hidden cliff at the top of his ascent. A moment later, a rope smacked Doug on the shoulder. "Grab that box and I'll pull you up."

"I can pull myself up. Catch."

"No!" Roo hissed. "That's not for throwing. Hold it carefully."

"Ah. Explosives or tools or stuff. Whatever. I'll be real careful."

It ledge was the entrance to a cave. They followed one tunnel, then another, before reaching a broad white cavern. Roo ignored the enemy milling in the center and made a bee-line for the far corner. He suddenly disappeared, and Doug realized he'd ducked into another side tunnel.

It was very short, a room rather than a tunnel. Empty except for a few bales of enemy cargo. Roo took the box from Doug and knelt down, tapping its sides. The top released with a wispy cloud of vapor. "Good. It didn't wilt." Roo pulled out a small golden bouquet.

"What the…"

"Shhh. You should probably step back." Roo moved toward the cargo and set the flowers down gently.

Immediately, a Milsaadi huntress dropped from the cave roof. She was taller than either man by at least half a meter, her face hooded in a silvery fabric. Her hooked blade swept the air as she leapt towards Roo.

"Hey, baby." Roo's face had a soft, genuine smile on it, even as he parried her swift attack with his heavy broadsword. "I brought you those flowers you like. Can't stay, but I'll come back later this week." He ducked a particularly forward swipe, then glanced back at Doug. "Run."

Doug didn't attempt to interrogate Roo as they fled the cave, the cavern, the tunnels, the drop, or the hill. No point, with Roo far ahead of him all the way, doing Pathfinders pound. Roo was already in the skell, instrument check complete (Doug hoped) and engine humming.

As they lifted off, Doug found that all that running had done nothing to calm him, nothing at all. "What in the name of all that is holy was that little stunt?!"

"Bringing flowers for my girl. Well, someday she'll be my girl. Maybe. I think she likes them."

"You THINK? She was trying to kill you."

"Aw, that was nothing. You should have seen her when I brought her some strawlennies. Girl does not like fruit. Jaharmum, that's another story."

"Jaharmum?! You waste that pricey thing on a Milsaadi?"

"Why do you think I spend so much time collecting it?"

"We did all that so you could bring flowers to a Milsaadi?"

"I'm in love."

"You're insane."

Doug could almost hear Roo's shrug over the intercom. "What can I say? The heart is a mysterious thing."

* * *

 **A/n: What I wanted to type was: "I just want to sit on the couch and play video games." Instead I typed this to my family's irritation.**

 **Next up: Fat. Shrug.**


	16. Fat

**Inktober16 Fat**

 **a/n: Ricky Bobby tries on a new look. I redacted all of Gino's swears, please add them back in yourself.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, which means that they are to blame for none of this.**

* * *

"What happened to you?!" A wrench clanged at Gino's feet and he lurched toward his partner.

Ricky Bobby shifted nervously. He knew what Gino meant. He crossed his arms, giving himself a quick reassuring squeeze. "I got a new mim. Not the face or anything, but a new body."

"You're fat!"

Ricky Bobby swallowed. "Yes."

"Change it back, man. It looks …"

Our Lady of the Left Hand smiled kindly on Gino and sent Lila, their manager, to interrupt them. "Gino! Pick up that tool! And, uh, Ricky, I see you've changed. Trying something new for a bit?"

"No. I like it."

"Fine."

Gino had recovered not only the discarded wrench. "Uh, yeah, I guess you could handle that look. If anyone could. Ow!" He moved away from his sharp-elbowed boss.

"I was tired of looking weird," Ricky Bobby tried to explain.

"You weren't weird, man. It was cool! All those muscles. You were ripped! Like some super hero," enthused his spindly coworker. "Ow! Lila! Stop hitting me."

"Stop being stupid. I'm doing what I wish someone had done for me. I'll keep doing it." She turned to Ricky Bobby. "So, the Superman look wasn't doing it for you?"

"It always felt bad." Ricky Bobby scrunched his face as he struggled for words. "Like I was wearing someone else's body."

"Ew. Gross."

"Shut up, Gino. And this feels better?"

"This feels like me." Worry had finally entered Ricky Bobby's eyes. "Do I have to change back?"

"Why?"

"To keep my job?"

Lila smiled and shook her head. "Even if we weren't mims, it wouldn't matter. If a Ma-non can work here, you're just fine. And mim bodies mean it really doesn't matter, strength-wise."

"Hey, speaking of the squeakies, has Twyleth seen you?" Gino interrupted.

"No."

"Do you think she'll like it?"

Ricky Bobby squeezed himself again. "I don't know."

"Twyleth likes _you_ , not your mim." Lila regarded the new, improved Ricky. "Can I hug you?" she asked suddenly.

When Ricky Bobby opened his arms and Lila stepped in for a hug, Gino made gagging noises and rolled his eyes. "Oh, good lord, is this gonna be another one of those team-building, group hug fests?"

"It's nice." Lila's voice was muffled.

Gino rolled his eyes again and dropped the wrench with another clang. "Lemme grab a piece of the action," he said, as he wrapped his thin arms around the two.

The hug didn't last long, by Sakuraba Auxiliary Skell Refueling Station 1.02 standards. But, as Lila pointed out, they would probably have to hug twice as long when Twyleth arrived in time for the pizza delivery.

* * *

 **a/n: I never considered if Ricky Bobby _wanted_ to look like a superhero. Turns out, he doesn't. Our Lady of the Left Hand is one of my house deities, and slaps a hand over your mouth before you say something you'd regret. For more group hug action, try Lily and the BLADE, ch. 9.**

 **Next up: Graceful. Which could also be more Ricky Bobby, but only when he's defending the Ma-non ship from Ganglion attackers. (You need that in your life? "Shield of the Ma-non", go man go. Also, shameless plug # 2.)**


	17. Graceful

**Inktober17 Graceful**

 **a/n: Wolf is the scary trainer who works near the Missions Board. In my XCX, he's now working on the Ma-non ship, training xenos with the help of Miss Duna Valdileo. But sometimes they have to take a break.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, including these two incredible NPCs that got no quests whatsoever.**

* * *

The younger Prone made a great show of tugging at Duna Valdileo's hand, bending over with effort while scarcely pulling. "Please, Duna, please join the dance."

"Very well, Alanta, since you will insist on making a fuss. Wolf, I am sorry, but we must delay our meeting."

The girl grabbed Wolf's hand as well, with a stronger grip. "The human must dance too. I want everyone to dance."

Duna followed her skipping kinswoman with dignity. Wolf tried not to clatter as he followed. At the end of the sparkling bronze deck, they found a group of several Prone, mostly female, all young. When Alanta joined them, they began to move in unheard rhythm. Duna watched a moment, then slowly lifted her arms to the ceiling, arching them in a gentle bow. She took one step, then another, and another, each more graceful than the next. Her eyes, major and minor, were closed, the lashes sweeping her cheeks and brows. Her head tentacles traced complicated shapes in the air. The golden ornaments on her blouse sent flickers along her neck and face.

Wolf managed to shift his weight from left to right foot, then back again, twice, before giving up. He stood rock still and stared at the dancers. Duna opened her major eyes to look at him, but closed them quickly and turned away.

Alanta had also noticed his stillness. "This won't do!" She darted in front of him and stamped a dainty foot. "You must dance! Nothing must spoil it."

"How can he dance when he wears a skell on his back?" joked one of the few dancing males.

"That's it! Your clothing is wrong. Take it off."

Wolf crossed his arms and glared.

"You will ruin it!" Alanta wailed again.

Duna had stopped glancing. "Do as she asks, Wolf. I will explain later."

"I'm not taking my armor off." Wolf's voice resembled that of his namesake's.

"Your jacket at least. It really is bulky."

"I dress for combat, not dancing."

"Our males manage to dress for both." Duna held out an expectant hand.

He assessed the scene, then reluctantly removed his heavy torso armor as well as the sleeves, revealing a regulation BLADE tee. He checked the pockets, making sure nothing would fall out, before handing his gear to Duna. The pleasant, slightly ionized air of the Ma-non ship tickled his forearms.

Alanta had stayed by them. "Perfect! Now we all will dance!" She clapped her hands and rejoined her friends.

"Thank you."

"I am not happy about this."

"We are doing her an honor." Duna had resumed dancing, but was less completely enthralled by it. "If I am not mistaken, she is declaring her readiness for courtship today. By having more than friends and family attend, she shows her value as part of the community. You show that she is also valued by the humans." Duna glanced at him critically. "Could you at least sway?"

Wolf did as he was told.

Duna sighed and shimmied around him in a slow circle. "Alanta is the last of them, the children I shepherded when we were first captured. She could barely walk. I carried her on my back many days when they made up march. Now she dances her way into womanhood." She laid a hand on Wolf's arm. "Stop now. She is dancing in earnest."

The other dancers had grown still. Only Alanta continued, twisting and bending, stamping forward and back, twirling her hands over and around her head.

"She's almost as graceful as you," said Wolf.

Duna gave a quiet bark of laughter. "Tsk. She is far better. See how she makes a tree bloom where there was only emptiness? I liked dancing well enough, but never enough to make it my demonstration skill."

"What was your choice?" Wolf knew that all Prone women demonstrated their best talent when they decided they were ready to take a mate.

She stared at Alanta, now finished and surrounded by her chattering friends. Wolf noticed that a young Prone male, not one of the dancers, had joined them, all six of his eyes fixed on Alanta. Duna lifted her head defiantly. "I chose nothing. The time was too dire when I came of age. It was all I could do to keep the children safe. Mostly by nagging." She twitched on shoulder in amusement. "As I did with you."

"I thought your dancing was fine."

She gave him a look of delight, her tentacles flicking upward at the tips like small hooks. "You are a flatterer, Wolf. I am surprised. Well, perhaps you are right. There is a male that prefers to live in New Los Angeles. Perhaps he would dance with me." She swung her hips experimentally. "If I nagged him enough."

"I can't imagine any many refusing to listen," Wolf replied.

* * *

 **a/n: AHHHHHHHH! I think this takes place shortly after "Three Sapphire Horns", but only just barely. I will finish "The Treasure of O'rrh Sim", trust me.**

 **Next up: Filthy. Yo, Tobias. Want to be in another fiction?**


	18. Filthy

**Inktober18 Filthy**

 **a/n: Not all Mediators are chill. Case helps a friend.**

 **No, really, this is K+, but angsty.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, while Case the Head Case and Howard the Obnoxious are mine.**

* * *

Howard, warden for the barracks, swept aside the cubicle curtain. It was worse than he'd expected. Two figures, struggling to undress, and the woman wasn't even a BLADE (Visitation: Guest visitation authorized 0900-2000). He had followed a trail of slime down the hall, intermixed with brown smudges on the wall (Cleanliness: Floors must be swept and mopped. Sadly, nothing about walls, that would have to be updated). Once in the shared bathroom, he had heard two voices in one stall (Common Areas: Sharing of shower stalls is not authorized). Not even the running water (Resources: Showers must be limited to 5 minutes) hid the urgent pleas of the young woman.

"Come on, Gwin. One more arm and you're there. You can do it."

The warden stood glowering at the guilty pair and prepared to list their infractions. The pair showed no contrition whatsoever. Rather, they ignored him. The woman was focused on her partner, while the man seemed oblivious to everything and everyone (Safety: Intoxication in common areas is not authorized). The woman clucked proudly at Evans as he laboriously shed his body armor. She glanced at Howard. "Good. You can help. Hold this." She flung the garment at him.

"Ugh, this is filthy!" He dropped it on the tiles (Readiness: Gear must be kept clean). No question, Evans was the source of the slime trail. The Interceptor was head to toe in muck, his pitiful exposed torso the only clean spot on him. The civilian, Case was her name, an expelled BLADE, was liberally smeared but clearly only from close contact with Evans.

"Good. Now the boots. Once they're off, it's only one thing more and we'll get you into the shower," Case continued. She had a firm grip on Evans' waist, propping him up. "If you aren't gonna help, at least close the curtain. He doesn't need to catch a cold on top of all this," the redhead snapped at Howard.

"You have exactly ..." The warden began his standard tongue lashing for miscreants.

"… Five seconds to explain yourselves, yeah yeah, I know," Case interrupted him. "Look, Howard, it was one of _those_ missions. Gwin should still be in the Mim Center except they're kind of busy. Either help or back off." She tossed one newly liberated boot in his direction.

Howard tapped the mudball-with-footwear-kernel over toward the stinking body armor. "If he needs attention, he should stay at the MMC." (Readiness: Mimeosomes must be kept in good working order)

"They're _busy_ ," Case stressed. She was dragging Evans' pants off while still working to keep him upright, and Howard didn't quite know where to look. He calmed down when he realized Evans still had his shorts on. "He's not hurt, he just needs a rest. But not like this. Shower time!" With that, she hauled Evans into the stall. Standing in the spray with him, she grabbed some soap and attacked Evans' encrusted head. "Everyone's going to be okay," she shouted at Howard. "Everyone. So don't worry."

Evans mumbled something unintelligible.

"Everyone," Case repeated. "Don't you worry."

* * *

 **a/n: How did something so short take that many rewrites? Case is returning a favor from a little earlier (sure, you can look at "Telephone/3", but I'm thinking something else, written but not yet posted).**

 **Next up: Cloud. No clue. I sense Roo incoming, but I thought I'd be writing Tobias silliness.**


	19. Cloud

**Inktober19 Cloud**

 **a/n: Doug and Roo do a mission and there is no angst.**

 **All the good things of XCX belong to the geniuses of Monolith Soft, who gave me a chance to build Roo the Dork.**

* * *

Doug and Roo glanced at each other. "Ready?" asked Doug. Roo nodded, a crooked smile slipping onto his lean face.

Ahead of them, in the clear Primordia moons-light, floated a newly hatched swarm of nocturnal vespers. The needles of their stingers were not fully hardened, but they were already sharp enough to pierce mid-weight armor. The appearance of the swarm had been unexpected, a mass hatch triggered by the end of a long rainy spell, at least according to the Curators. Normally, clearing low level enemy was the job for focused Interceptors, not this half-team of stalwart Harrier and distractible Pathfinder. (Roo put the "roo" into "peripatetic", and if you pointed out that that word didn't contain that syllable, he'd respond that it should.) The swarm's density and disturbing proximity to the West Gate had caused the mission board's manager to take the unusual step of grabbing the nearest random BLADEs for the task. Hence this team. Doug had been near, as he so often was, looking for some quick money, and Roo was certainly random. Now they were ready to swat bat-winged mosquitos the size of Canadian geese.

The two fighters ran at the noxious nighttime insects. Roo didn't stop until he was in the center of the cloud, skidding to a halt and swinging his longsword in a rising spiral of slashes that nicked a dozen prey. The heavier figure of Doug planted himself at the edge, targeting single vespers, occasionally joining Roo in an aerial backflip display of melee power. After three minutes, the ground was littered with fallen husks and the air was empty of foe.

Roo sheathed his sword and raised two splayed fingers. "High five."

Doug glared at him. "That's a peace sign."

"Roman numerals. Lin taught me about them the other day. V is 5." Roo grinned at Doug. The Harrier laughed and gave his teammate a lopsided mid-air greeting.

As they walked back to the nearest base camp, Roo asked, "Hey, you wanna get Lin out to help us? She's been whining at me to go out on another mission."

"Yeah, she's been hitting me up too. But, ugh, not this kind of run. Lin and swarms? Bad idea."

"She can hold her own."

"She aggros everything, Roo."

"So do I. Not sure how."

"I trust you to live or die, your call. I gotta protect the kid. I end up spending all my time stuck by her side. Sometimes I like to have a different plan, you get me?"

"Cool cool," muttered Roo. "Want to do another round?"

"Sure."

* * *

 **a/n: I had a brilliant piece, full of angst, Case and H.B. Then I rechecked the prompt. Not "float". Well, boo hoo, you get Roo. My household innovated classical high fives last year, and it still makes us cackle. Ask me about hashtag high fives.**

 **Shameless plug: Doug and Lin sweetness/tension showed up first in "Homework/3". Yes, I will steal from myself.**

 **Next up: What does it matter, if I'm going to misremember it? Deep. I.e. not Roo.**


	20. Deep

**Inktober20 Deep**

 **a/n: Hope helps a fellow Mediator become a better BLADE.**

 **Every square cm of Xenoblade Chronicles X goodness belongs to the geniuses of Monolith Soft. They made some great NPCs, I tell you.**

* * *

Hope had agreed to meet him shortly after lunchtime. It felt strange, not to be standing watch by the fountain at the entrance to the Commercial Sector. He noted the chatting groups at the park, mostly civilians, with a few uniformed BLADEs mixed in. The trees and grass gave the air a fresher feel. Still, he had to quash the urge to return to his familiar spot. He reminded himself that the buildings would still be standing if he left them alone for an hour.

"Justin, I was so pleased when you reached out to me." Hope walked a few steps to greet him, then led him to a shaded bench. "I'm very happy to help you."

He settled down on the wooden seat and smiled apologetically. "I'm not sure how much help you can give me. I'm afraid that I'm … lacking … when it comes to certain aspects of our job."

"You mentioned you were having trouble when people came to you for emotional advice."

"Exactly. I'm eager to help people. That's what we Mediators live for. But I'm realizing that I am more the beat cop type. Chasing shoplifters and helping lost children and so on."

Hope laughed. "I don't think we have many of the former and the latter, well, that will have to wait. But our people still have problems, as you already know."

"It always feels so nebulous. I don't know how I can help if they can't explain beyond, 'I feel sad,'" Justin said with no little frustration.

"Being there for them is a help, Justin. If someone has found enough strength to reach out, you have to trust that they will keep working to find a solution. Your job is to help them stay open to change, to strengthen their decisions. You don't have to provide the answer. All you can do sometimes is listen."

Justin looked at his hands. "That's probably for the best. Sometimes I don't know what to say at all. Ha ha, how useful is it, to have both people at a loss for words?"

Hope considered this for a moment. "There are tools you can use to help, Justin, if your partner agrees. Say, for example, word association."

Justin looked at her with dismay. "Don't you need a couch for that?" He thrust out his chest and said in an exaggerated nasal voice, "Today we will be discussing your childhood. What do you think of when I say 'mother'?"

Hope laughed again, a gentle sound. "Nothing so serious. You can use it almost like a game, to start a conversation. Would you like to try it?"

Justin plastered a shining smile on his face. "As I always say, anything to help NLA."

"You're a good sport, Justin. I find it best to stick to general words, nothing obvious." She hesitated. "If I said 'Earth', I doubt that would ever be helpful. Let's try lighter things. Fruit."

"Fruit _is_ a lighter food."

"No, Justin. That's the first word." He noticed that her nose crinkled slightly when she smiled.

"Of course. Then, sweet."

Hope nodded and continued. "Night." "Day." "Hand." "Work." "Party." "Crowd." "Deep." "…"

Justin jerked his head up slightly. He cleared his throat. "Uh, pool. Swimming pool." He shook himself before attempting a smile. He looked at Hope expectantly.

"You don't like swimming pools?"

"My family had one when I was growing up. I didn't like the deep end much. Funny. I didn't notice it when we went to the neighbors' houses, but at home it scared me a little."

"Did many of your neighbors have pools?" she asked with surprise.

"Nothing unusual for Florida."

"I thought you were from Minnesota."

"Oh. Yes. I grew up there, but I was thinking of when we spent a few months in Florida. I was afraid of that pool in Florida. Not afraid. I just didn't like it." He smiled brightly. "Didn't bother my brother and sister at all."

"But I thought you were an only child."

"What?"

Hope blushed. "I checked your personnel file before this meeting. I wanted to know a little more about you so I could help you better. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind? Why should I mind? No, you're quite right," he continued quickly. "They weren't my _real_ brother and sister. But our families lived together, when we were in Florida, and sometimes I pretended."

"Being an only child can be lonely."

"I wasn't exactly lonely, but I will admit I didn't really have many friends until I joined the White Whale crew. And of course, now I have all of NLA to serve."

"You never leave the city, do you? Neither do I," Hope said with a touch of sadness.

"I know my strengths. I can't be the one to rescue the Lifehold, but I can help the heroes that will, by protecting this beautiful city. Someday, I hope to show our lost ones every special spot of our new home, and reveal the wonders of even its forgotten corners."

"What a lovely goal, Justin." She smiled her cherry blossom smile at him. "And you can see how a simple game gave us so much to talk about. It really is that simple."

"Indeed, it is simple. What seems like a plaything is really a powerful tool to help others. Thank you so much." He stood up and stepped into the sunlight. His golden hair glinted as brightly as his smile. "Thank you so much, Hope. Maybe someday I'll have a chance to make you proud of what you've taught me."

* * *

 **a/n: I had nothing for this prompt, so I chose a fun NPC, Justin, always my shining golden boy. He's a Mediator, right? So is Hope. I still had no idea for 'deep', so I out and out cheesed it. I don't care.**

 **Someday. Someday! I will write my imaginary backstory for Justin. Love that boy.**

 **Next up: Furious. If this doesn't feature Vandham, I will be very disappointed with myself. Or maybe Irina.**


	21. Furious

**Inktober21 Furious**

 **a/n: Doug, Alexa, and Doug's couch are my BrOTP threesome.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and a big thank you to Hiroyuki Sawano for the music.**

* * *

It had taken one pizza, most of a six-pack, and three short skell documentaries to calm Alexa down. She'd talked nonstop during the videos, repeating her grievances. Doug sat on the couch next to her, humming sympathy when appropriate. He knew she was still furious because she didn't stop for her favorite clip, the one comparing science fiction robot suits to early prototype designs. In fact, she snapped the video off suddenly.

"Gah! I can't stand to even look at this!"

"Whoa there. You don't want to look at skells? We need to get you into the Maintenance Center, stat."

"It's not funny."

"Unless you're a Definan imposter, masquerading as my favorite Outfitter." He reached over and palmed the top of her head, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Nope. Still pointy. You're the real thing."

She swatted his hand away. "Ha, ha. NOT FUNNY," she growled. "That clip rubs me wrong. Calling skells science fiction. I already heard enough of that today. Fantasy. Pipe dream. Gah!" She flung the remote at the screen and stood up.

"Hold on. Don't break my stuff."

"Fine. I'm gonna go throw rocks at the Manufacturers' Building. Or BLADE tower. Do you know which window is Nagi's?"

"Alexa, you need to chill," he said peaceably.

She flopped back against the sofa. "Ahhhhhh! I have worked for months on that concept and they accused me of watching too many old skell movies."

"You do watch a lot of skell movies."

He remained calm as she popped onto her knees and leaned in towards him, hissing. "This wasn't any dream. This is what we need to do. This is what skells deserve."

"Two pilots."

"Absofluffinglutely."

"I remember a certain movie series from when I was a kid…"

"Nothing stupid like split brain nonsense, Doug. Yuck. That was just an excuse to throw some dumb childhood montages into otherwise excellent giant robot movies. No, I mean it, two pilots. No, scratch that, let me be clear, one pilot, all about maneuvering the skell, and one gunner, all about hitting the target, and hard."

"Skells hit hard enough."

"Don't you get it? The loadout is so inefficient. For big fights, each weapon is a one-time use. Push the button and move on to the next weapon. Sure, they hit hard, but it's so slow and god forbid you need to hit a second time. A good ground fighter can do twice the damage in half the time."

Doug grinned slyly. "Did you just say that I'm better than skells?"

Alexa backhanded his arm with a stinging smack. He was relieved to see her struggle not to laugh. "Skells rule, now and forever. But we can't keep loading them up heavier and heavier and think we can catch up. Just imagine Speedy the Skell, still with only four weapons, but each one lighter and faster and with two or three possible attacks. You'd have one BLADE focused on getting the most out of each one, and the pilot focused on getting into the best position. We'd blow the ground pounders out of the water."

"That metaphor needs help."

"Listen to me, Doug! I'm telling you: this is the direction we need to go!"

"I believe you. It sounds great. I call shotgun."

She slumped against him, banging her forehead on his shoulder. "Then why couldn't I convince Sakuraba on that point? They didn't even let me finish the presentation. Just patted me on the head and told me to go back to my anime."

"Manga is better. Sorry about my head pat, Alexa."

"Oh, I know what you meant, Doug." She sighed against him. "I'm angry and it's hopeless. They've pulled me off skell design before and they'll probably pull me off again. If they haven't already." She shifted away and paused for a moment. Then she said in a firm voice, "I'm not going to give up. Not on this. I saw their point on the changes for the Ares. But I can't let them ignore this."

"Atta girl. Make them say sorry they didn't listen."

"I'm make them crawl. I'll build a prototype of my own. With my teeth, if necessary."

There was a knock at the door. Alexa and Doug exchanged a questioning glance. Doug shrugged. "I'll get it. Might be Frye." Alexa muttered something about borrowing a cup of vodka as he moved away.

It wasn't Frye. An anonymous grunt with a Sakuraba nametag stood there, holding a folder full of papers and blueprints. "Ms. Alexa left this behind at her presentation. I'm supposed to deliver it." Alexa shoved past Doug to snatch the packet out of the delivery man's hands. "Thanks for bringing them. Have a nice night," Doug said and quickly shut the door.

Alexa was glaring at the folder on the coffee table. "These are copies. To keep and look at. I didn't need them back. They really want to tell me no."

"Well, at least I get to enjoy them. Power point me, Alexa." Doug wandered into the kitchenette, returning with a fresh beer for each of them.

They sifted through the papers together, Alexa pointing out this feature or that. Finally, they sat in silence. Alexa stared glumly at a spreadsheet of percentages and abbreviations. Doug shuffled a few loose sheets, admiring the diagrams. Then he noticed a slightly smaller page. "Huh. This one is different."

"What's that?"

"This skematic. I like it. It's different. Less technical than your others."

"That's not part of my presentation."

"It was in the packet." Doug examined the detailed drawing of a double pilot's seat. "Looks comfy. Like an oversized bean bag chair." He passed the paper over to Alexa.

"That's not mine. That's …" She lurched forward, laying the paper flat on the table and peering down at it. "It's not my handwriting. I didn't do this. I never thought about using insulation to protect the pilots."

"Pffft. Typical," muttered Doug.

"This isn't mine!" she almost shouted.

"Whose is it?"

She was squinting at a corner of the page. "I – s – o …" she spelled out. "Doug! Doug! I think that's Mr. Isobe's signature.

"So?"

"He's the lead researcher on skells. Was. He's semi-retired. You know! He was the guy that fixed the flight module."

"Lin did that," Doug growled, instantly defensive.

"He did the last 1% that kept the thing from exploding."

"Oh, yeah." Doug sighed. "I remember the explosions."

Alexa was looking feverishly at the sparse text. "It's dated 2053. Before we left Earth. These plans are old, Doug. Holy mother of marmalade, do you know what this means? _Do you know what this means, Doug?!_ "

"Yup. You need a coffee date with Mr. Isobe tomorrow morning. Early."

* * *

 **a/n: Ahhhhhh. Written with 01 on loop, because I needed something to get the job DONE. Shameless plug time: "Modern Bromance/4" for the time Alexa was pulled off skells, and "Doug and Alexa do a test" for why (rated M for I'm not sure what happened there). And, yes, the skell seat in the XCX secret artbook looks a lot like a beanbag chair to me….**

 **Next up: Trail. Please, let it be short. (All I can think of is trail mix…. Nopon trail mix….)**


	22. Trail

**Inktober22 Trail**

 **a/n: Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Even Nopon know this.**

 **All the wonders of Xenoblade Chronicles X belong to Monolith Soft, and when it is ported, I am running Case as my second Cross.**

* * *

"Casey Case!" Only one creature on the planet used that silly sweet nickname. Case stopped and turned immediately. A round figure waddled swiftly towards her. "Casey Case starting new job today. Need proper breakfast."

"I'm sorry, Tatsu. I'm running late as it is. Another time," Case apologized.

"Tatsu know that. Human clock stupid but hardly mysterious. Tatsu made special Nopon travel meal for sleepy BLADE." The young Nopon gave a pleased bounce and whipped out a small tan pouch. It was woven from rough fibers and drawn closed with a delicate pink cord. Case took it gently and felt the contents shift in her hand.

"No fair eating most snacky bits, though." Tatsu put a wing arm to his hip and raised his minor arm in the air, a single tiny digit extended upward. His posture was a perfect Noponized version of Lin's best nagging pose. "Case must take boring bits along with the special spicy juicy ones. Nopon travel meal like life."

"Oh lord, you didn't make her a bag of that gross trail mix, did you?" Gwin had entered the common room shortly after Case and had heard the exchange. "I don't care how many free samples you give out, that stuff is never going to catch on."

"Nopon travel meal bestest quality."

"It's got bugs and twigs in it. Do yourself a favor, Case, and chuck it now."

Case held the sack close to her chest. "I'm going to eat every bite. No one's ever packed me a lunch before. Thank you, Tatsu."

* * *

 **a/n: Tatsu is not a chump, and Lin needs to stop using insult humor against him, because we can all agree that it got old. Oh well, middle schoolers, even genius ones, are imperfect creatures.**

 **Someday! Someday I will put up the mess of Case and Gwin and the Blood Lobster and Uncle Dougy and Frye getting banned from the Repenta and Case's new team (hello Lucky). This happens right in the middle, at a time when Case really needs more support. Repeat, Tatsu is not a chump. He made that treat special for her, because he knew she needed it.**

 **Why am I crying? Maybe because I have Z39B Comical on loop. Yeah, that's why. At 1.37 it switches from Tatsu's theme to Lin's theme, and you realize that they are two sides to the same coin of youth: silly and dreamy, brainless and so full of potential. TATSU IS NOT A CHUMP. I'm going to stop before the a/n become longer than the piece.**

 **Next up: Juicy. I'm in the mood to call up Frye. Let's put him in some track pants with that on the seat. Please?**


	23. Juicy

**Inktober23 Juicy**

 **a/n: A mostly OC Reclaimer team takes a lunch break.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, but Diego (Lucky), Lucy, and Case are mine**

* * *

Lucky threw down his shovel precisely at 1200. They'd been humping sand on the river bank since their late arrival four hours earlier, and the downed helicopter was still firmly wedged into the river bank. The heat wave wasn't making things easier. He figured a little shelter, a little recuperation, a little water, wouldn't make the job go past dinner, and it would definitely keep everyone out of the Maintenance Center.

He watched Yelv and Lu arguing in ferocious whispers. Lucky sighed. Yelv had once again confused fighting and flirting. Any tutoring went right over that man's head. Lucy wasn't much better. She was still fuming, in the nicest possible way, about the delay this morning. But Lu wouldn't take it out on the real culprit, the new girl. Oh no, she still wanted to be Case's new best friend. All that anger was being loaded onto Yelv. Lucky didn't waste much time worrying about those two. By the end of the day, Lucy would be blushing and smiling at every sandbag Yelv handed her, and pard wouldn't realize they'd ever been less than besties.

He left them to their clumsy interactions and chose to sit next to the new teammate. Head Case. She'd made the team a good two hours late for the briefing, and no amount of getting only the sharpest, shortest version from Eleonora was going to catch them up. The reasons for the delay hardly constituted an explanation, much less an excuse. Parts of it had made him laugh, but he didn't need comedy every morning. He liked his team. He didn't want some crazy chick wrecking it.

He settled in, propping a loose hand on one bent knee, stretching the other leg out as far as he could. (It went pretty far. His mim had good legs, thanks for asking, baby.) "Yo, Case, about this morning," he started.

She looked up from the snack she'd been munching methodically. She finished a particularly loud piece and said, slightly muffled, "I know, I know." She swallowed and said very clearly, "It won't happen again. I'll do better in the future." She ducked her coppery head back towards her snack.

"Cool, mija. Just wanted to be sure."

He wasn't. She'd said it so robotically, the words didn't carry any weight. He considered the river a few meters below them, cutting through the arid plain. He shook his head. The banks should be thick with trees and underbrush, but they were almost as barren as the surrounding golden dunes. What had happened to this place, to make this much water do this little good? Without turning his head, he continued. "Of the four of us, you're the one with the most experience. At least, you've been around the longest. We're going to want to pull on that, eventually." He slanted a glance at her.

Case plucked what looked like a twig out of her sack, and resolutely popped it in her mouth. Lucky tried again. "I'm new to BLADE. I'm sharp as they come, but I never fought for NLA. Yelv and Ro, they've seen stuff, but … well … they're still kids. Maybe you can be both."

"Don't expect much brains from me," muttered Case. "I suck at life."

He frowned. "How are you at missions?"

She pulled out another piece of snack, a crinkled olive tube, and grimaced before eating. Her gulp sounded painful. "I can take most of them." She was already reaching for the next piece. Lucky watched her wince before biting into it, a dried leaf this time.

"What _are_ you eating?"

"Nopon trail mix." She shook the bag softly, making a rustling sound. "To be honest, most of it tastes like crap, but Tatsu packed it for me and I promised I'd eat it all, the bitter with the sweet." She shook her head. "No fair picking only the good bits."

"I won't tell if you dump it. I'm good with secrets." Lucky meant it, not just about the snack, and hoped she'd realize.

She didn't acknowledge his hint. "I promised. Besides, it tastes bad enough that it must be healthy. And some of the bits are pretty good." She poked around the sack and lifted up a glowing garnet wedge. "This kind is pretty juicy. Try it." She leaned over to pass it to him.

Lucky examined the offering. He grinned slyly at her. "Weren't you supposed to eat it all, no picking?"

"Nothing says I can't give the best bits to my team."

* * *

 **a/n: I love Lucky the OC and to my horror, he is hard to write. All easy cool wolf on the outside, a lot of bitter smarts on the inside, and at the very base he wants to save everyone. Huh.**

 **Next up: Blind. The way I'm going in to Xenoblade Chronicles 2. Tell me nothing. NOTHING! Unless you know there will be fashion gear. I am praying for that, because some of them need PANTS.**


	24. Blind (Treasure of O'rrh Sim)

**Inktober25 Blind**

 **a/n: Wolf and Duna go on a mission. Hey, I think this is the next chapter for "O'rhh Sim"!**

 **All the good stuff belong to Monolith Soft, although I introduced the scary trainer Wolf to Miss Duna Valdileo of the Tree Clan.**

* * *

Why is it so hard to leave this city? Duna wondered. The green of the tower flickered dimly through the increasing rain. She hesitated to call NLA home. She had been taken from her true home by force and would never see it again. Now she was free, but sheltered only through kindness, or maybe curiosity, by strangers that also housed those who had destroyed her people. She had nothing in NLA, besides a family that had outgrown her and a project that was practically a farce. And yet, why was it so hard to leave? She placed her hands flat against her stomach, framing her navel, and took a slow, deep breath.

"Do you need a boost?" asked the human beside her.

"No, thank you, BLADE Wolf. I am capable of getting in myself." She shook a few droplets from her tentacles and climbed into the pilot's capsule.

She was grateful for the simplicity of the skell's controls. She knew she had no business going to Cauldros. Her inexperience might be the source of her nerves. Truthfully, she was more likely to endanger Wolf than aid him, but there was no one else she trusted with this mission. Sunilla, her dear friend, had somehow chosen her across unmeasurable distances, and Duna was not going to fail her.

Wolf spoke over the comm link. "Instrument check done here. Are you ready, Miss Duna?"

She hurriedly finished her own check at Wolf's tactful reminder. "Yes, BLADE Wolf."

The skell responded well to her untutored commands, although she took care to stay at a slower speed. When Wolf, in the lead, went airborne, she followed and felt even more comfortable with her vehicle. Clearly, the Ares were designed for flight. A sudden heavy gust of wind shook the skell and reminded her that this journey would not be easy, not even so close to New Los Angeles.

"I was going to run you through some easy combat," she heard Wolf's voice in her ear. "But I think this weather is enough of a challenge."

"Your order not to engage still seems wisest," she replied. "But another time I would be glad for the training."

The flew low to the ground, ducking below craggy outcroppings before heading out across the ocean towards a murky glow on the horizon. The rain had turned torrential, with gust like blows, and she was glad to dip down, following Wolf to a surface flight.

"If this weather isn't too much of a distraction, can you give me the mission details now?" Wolf seemed to be speaking right beside her, a rough voice in her ear.

Duna freed a hand to momentarily adjust the headset, only to hurriedly steady the skell. She tried to be as clear as possible, even as the controls jerked in her hands. "Sunilla said her treasure was located at the base of a ruined city, not as a part of it, but hidden in a field of liquid fire. She hinted that it was held secretly by Prone there."

"O'rrh Sim and the lava pools below it. That covers a lot of territory. And I've never heard of Prone in Cauldros."

"There may be a few." Duna remember her inquiries from the previous night. She tried to keep the distaste from her voice. "Slovity told me of one group."

Wolf made no response, but she could feel his steady patience. It had taken a surprising amount of will to overcome her hatred of the Cavern Clan residents and go to them for information. Her clan had never been one of the few that held a truce with their enemy. Some groups had lived side by side, for generations in rare cases, but not her clan. It mattered not. In the final disaster, all Tree Prone were enslaved, and past kindnesses were erased

Duna continued stoically. "For Sunilla, I will use whatever allies I must. I asked the Cavern Clan, and Slovity said there might be one small splinter group. Their leader acts independently. Apparently, even the Ganglion have standards for excessive brutality."

"I repeat, the ECP has _never_ heard of Prone there."

"His group is small and travels widely, to all lands. Slovity said he was an agent of chaos, not an effective fighting force. The other Cavern Clan shunned him."

"Does he have a name?"

"Maroos. She isn't sure he still exists. When she last knew of him, he had perhaps a dozen followers, maybe less. He does not keep them long."

"Not someone you'd trust with a Prone treasure."

"Even Slovity agreed with that."

Through the deluge, Duna could see the curve of bone-white cliffs, bending like an animal's ribs. She was slightly relieved to have reached their initial destination. Back at NLA, Wolf had explained they would need to pass through Sylvalum. Eleonora had tasked them with alerting a few isolated camps about the staffing problem in NLA. No hope of getting aid from them, though. All extra personnel were being pulled back to the city. They would have to succeed on their own.

As the skells set foot on Sylvalum beach, Duna's display screen malfunctioned. The green and grey landscape was replaced by static. "Wolf!" she said in alarm. "My skell has gone blind!"

Wolf muttered, a comforting growl very like a Prone's. "Why am I not surprised? It's spores, Miss Duna. Visibility is down to nothing. We'll have to crawl there." He grunted, and Duna smiled at his continued similarity to her own people. She was not surprised by his next words. "We can do this. Stay on the ground, follow the contours, and above all, go slow. We don't want to crash into an enemy. It's not all bad. They're just as blind as we are."

She was less comforted by his follow up. "But if we keep getting this kind of luck, prepare for flaming rain in Cauldros."

* * *

 **a/n: Leaving NLA is hard. I'm with you, Miss Duna.**

 **Next up: Ship. White Whale, yeassssss! (Oh my gracious, will I do the thing with Vandham, Halloween, and a maid costume? Send help.)**


	25. Ship

**Inktober25 Ship**

 **a/n: Lila and Vandham are working hard to save the ship. Not as flirty happy as it usually turns out.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, but Lila the NPC is mine.**

* * *

"Look for the shiny ones," Lila shouted into her shoulder.

Even from far away and through a cheap mic, her tech's response was distinctly whiney. "Lila, we're gonna have to check them all to be sure."

"If we get the best bets …" She grunted as she removed an exemplarily bright screw. "… we might be okay. Gives us the time …" She flicked the instrument cover off and hissed sourly. "… to go back …" She carefully removed a suspicious circuit, but not before bypassing it. "… and do the overtime heavy version you're so keen on. Shiny screws, Gino. Shiny!" She tapped the comm link off and slipped the circuit into a pocket.

"Rat boy giving you grief?"

She almost didn't look. There was another suspicious screw glinting an arm's length away. Still, she had to make sure it wasn't her imagination. She braced herself against the side of the narrow duct and twisted her head to look directly "up" its length. Blocking most of the free space at the far end was Chief Vandham.

"He wants to do a perfect job." She pushed herself a fraction in order to drift to the tempting panel, and settled in to remove it. "I want to save the ship." The walls of the duct suddenly shifted, pushing her askew. She righted herself grimly and focused.

"That explosion weakened this entire section."

"I figured that out already, sir. Don't you have more important things to do?" Another circuit removed, and she smacked the panel into place a little faster. She slid half a meter toward her boss and the next panel.

"I was passing by. Shiny screws?"

"Yes, Chief. Look for a circuit that …"

"I got it."

She continued. "… has too low a rating. Better to risk a circuit melting than have a cascade of failures."

"You lecturing me about the ship I built?"

"I make it a policy to finish my sentences, sir."

There were only three or so panels between them when a jarring, muffled clang not so much sounded as rolled through the space. Lila bounced back and forth between the walls. As she righted herself, she noted to her horror that the duct below her was going dark. The lights weren't flickering out, though. The crawlway itself was being extinguished, crushed as a result of this latest blast.

"Move."

"Three more panels."

"Now!" The Chief was straining to brace the sides of the duct with his arms. "Slide on past, Brown."

She scooted towards him, stopping to have an awkwardly positioned argument. Gravity-free work spaces made easier access, but even after five months it was still weird to have a conversation with someone who was "upside down". "Sir, you go and I'll follow."

"I don't see you holding the wall," he grunted. "Move, Brown."

"Sir! You'll…"

"… be back on line by lunch. They'd probably scrap you. Move, Brown!" he urged.

A minute later, she was shaking in the outer corridor, speckled with blue mim fluid that had swept after her as she shot out the exit. She ignored the shouting crewmembers around her, but she wouldn't ignore her own tech's repeated pings. Still, the device squawked three times before she responded.

"That was big. You still there?"

"Yeah." She staggered to her feet.

"I'm fine too, thanks for asking."

"Great, Gino. My site collapsed. I'm moving to the next one, 8-4. Keep on it."

"That explosion…"

"One less duct to check. We still can get ahead of it, if we're fast enough. Move, Gino!"

* * *

 **a/n: Not quite the ship I usually write about.**

 **Next up: Squeak. At this point, I don't care.**


	26. Squeak

**Inktober26 Squeak**

 **a/n: Doug and his OC team discuss armor. i.e. Null rants about female armor, again.**

 **All the good things, especially the blessing of fashion gear, belongs to Monolith Soft, but not Janine, Nguyn, and Ray.**

* * *

Doug raised a hand, curled into a loose fist. "We gotta stop. Nguyn's squeaking again."

"Am not. I think it's Ray." As the culprit pointed to a third teammate, clad in trek shorts, a distinct "squeak" sounded from his elbow.

"Yama's not going to care about a squeak, Doug. Its ears are two stories above the ground." The fourth teammate scratched her head and considered. "If it has ears."

"I care, Janine. That tyrant's not going anywhere, but I'm gonna lose it. Come over here, Nguyn." Doug rummaged around in his kit. "Pop that arm off and let's see if some oil won't help."

"The whole arm?!" Nguyn asked in alarm.

"Don't tempt me," muttered Doug.

As Doug mumbled over the offending gear, Janine started ragging on Nguyn. "I don't know why you insist on wearing that over-the-top armor. The Orphe must dip their merchandise in flange juice."

"I look cool. I look like a Power Ranger!" Nguyn jumped into a crouching pose, arms cocked dramatically.

"You look like a candelabra."

"At least I don't look like a kindergartner." They both turned to look at Ray.

"Hey, I'm not suffering through this jungle heat in closed armor. Plus, it has pockets."

"You're right about this heat," interrupted Doug. "Let's see if I fixed it." A distinct slow "grrrrrrsqueak" sounded. Doug swore and returned to fiddling with the gear.

"You know what would beat this heat?" Nguyn's face was obscured by the insectoid helmet but his voice was sly. "A bunny suit." He glanced at Janine.

"Drop dead. I'll stick with medium weight standard gear, thanks. Soldiers deserve pants. No offense, Ray."

"I still have you beat for pockets," Ray responded.

Nguyn waved his arms broadly. "There's gotta be something to those suits. You see them all around, all the time."

"In pictures, idiot, not in the field," Janine lectured. "Maybe NLA, but usually not even there. Guys buy the things, girls wear 'em. Once. Then they discover the misery of chaffing and toss 'em. Try a set and you'll see what I mean."

"Guys can't wear bunny gear."

"I don't see why not."

"Janine, don't be stupid. No one wants to see that."

She shrugged. "I dunno. Some of you have nice legs." She involuntarily looked at Ray. They both immediately looked away, blushing.

"Guys don't want to look like that, all hanging out in the air. We want to look tough. Like me. Grrrrrr!" Nguyn struck another super hero pose.

"Then explain Doug," blurted Ray, desperate to turn the focus away from himself.

"What?" Doug looked up from the arm piece, now half dissembled in his lap. "I've almost got it."

"Ray has a point, boss man. That Meredith gear is kinda skimpy."

"Nice and skimpy," echoed Janine with a cheerful leer.

Doug looked down at his armor, which consisted of swim trunks and some electrified straps. "It does the job. Alexa gave it to me."

"Alexa's dressing you cute now," Nguyn hooted.

"It's a side mission. Outfitters needed some readings about the gear. Once I turn it in to Alexa, they'll cut me a check."

"Ahhhhhh!" squealed Janine. "You're telling us you're getting paid to let Alexa take off your clothes! Ahhhhhh!" In a second, both she and Nguyn were rolling on the ground with laughter. Even Ray was snickering.

Doug let it die down. "Ha ha, very funny. I'm laughing all the way to the bank. Try it now, Nguyn." He slapped the restored piece onto Nguyn's arm. They all stood silently as the Miran Ranger gave one more exaggerated flex.

"…. ssspt …"

"Good enough. Let's go."

* * *

 **a/n: It should be spelled Nguyen. But that's how it was spelled when I was a kid. Actually, come to think of it, there was a Nguyen, but he was taller. And all hom hom deserve pants, so pleeeeeeease give unto us fahion gear again.**

 **Shameless plug time: Alexa dresses Doug up in Meredith gear at the start of "Dances with Saltat". He may have worn it in-game for a long time. For research!**

 **Next up: Climb. Pathfinders' motto: "Climb this!"**


	27. Climb

**Inktober27 Climb**

 **a/n: Lila's back at work after Inktober25/Ship. Things aren't going smoothly.**

 **Yeah, you'll need to read #25 for this to make complete sense, and also prepare for angst.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, which obviously excludes Gino and Lila.**

* * *

Lila took a deep breath and deliberately raised her hand to the edge of the ladder. Her stomach flipped, but she kept a steady grip on the metal. She concentrated on how cool it felt. The paint was smooth, but wear marks had already developed. This is a familiar tool, built on Earth and a proven ally, she reminded herself. This ladder is innocent. She swallowed down a wave of bile.

"You gonna climb that or are you frozen?" Gino's voice was nasty.

"I'm thinking about it. You need to get past?"

"I'm good."

Lila reached for the other side, but her vision was going pixilated. No, she ordered herself, no. I will not allow this. Her agoraphobia was bad enough, but if she developed ladder-a-phobia, they'd have to shut her down. She had no illusions of her importance. At the same time, there were a number of shipmates that were less valuable. She told herself it wasn't selfishness driving her forward. Loyalty to the mission was going to get her there. Starting with coming to terms with every single ladder on the ship.

"Sorry I'm late! The line at breakfast was a mess. But I brought coffee!" She didn't turn around at the breezy voice behind her. It belonged to the perfect example of a less-than-valuable teammate. She set a foot on the first rung, but she had no energy to lift herself up. She begged her brain not to connect the smell of coffee with her increasing nausea.

"So how is your morning going, Gino?" he continued cheerfully.

"Take a look, dumbass. I'm doing the work of three while our 'manager' romances a ladder and you do a drinks-run."

"But it's hazelnut. Surely that's worth it."

Lila let them argue. They were both wrong. Gino was barely pulling his own weight and hazelnut coffee was an abomination. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on a convenient ladder rung. No, they weren't wrong. Gino was the best worker they had right now, and the blond transfer from the fighting division was doing his best to be part of the team. A drinks-run was about his limit. She'd realized almost immediately that his purported technical skills were fictional. Even her routine switching station didn't offer a job he could manage, and he didn't seem up to any learning curve. She hoped he was a better soldier, but she had her doubts.

"What we need is music," Blondie laughed. "To get everyone moving." After a pause, blaring dubstep filled the room with a driving beat and industrial levels of distortion. Lila instinctively gripped the ladder hard enough to strain the metal in her own hands. Each pop and smack in the music hit her right between the eyes. They sounded like something.

 _(It had sounded like a tree limb cracking. It had sounded like the rip of thunder. But first he had grunted, and then he had screamed, and then there was something wet and quiet like nothing else. The then the crack.)_

"Gino! Shut if off!" she howled. The silence was fast and cold and she almost fell on her back when she let go of the ladder. But her eyes were open when she whirled around to look at them. Gino had his hand flat on the instrument panel, leaning hard on the off switch. Justin still held the tray of coffees. He had a hurt expression on his face.

"Justin, thank you for the coffee," she said in a flat but otherwise normal voice. When he bounced over with a cup, she waved him away. "Put it over by my clipboard. I'll save it for later. But we don't need peppy music to make us move." She shot a glance at Gino. "What was that thing you were listening to yesterday?"

"Andian blues. That Hurtado is the bomb."

"That. Let's have some of that." She waited as he fiddled with his comm device. When the first plaintive notes of acoustic guitar began, she turned back to the ladder and started to climb mindlessly.

* * *

 **a/n: Ciro Hurtado, "Los Angeles Blues". On loop, and that's what got me through. I love dubstep, but not for this. Also, I apologize for the gratuitous Justin. He keeps popping into stories, dear sweet shining boy.**

 **Next up: Fall. I think it will be the conclusion to this series, Ship/Climb/Fall, even if I have to cheese the connection.**


	28. Fall

**Inktober28 Fall**

 **a/n: Vandham is back to work. Why is Lila still looking like thunder?**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and Lila the OC NPC is not worthy, but she's doing her best.**

* * *

"What you did was stupid, sir." She thought she'd been close enough to the door, but she'd been wrong. He'd blocked her way at the end of the meeting and told her to spit it out. She hadn't answered until the rest of the relay station heads had left.

"I see. That's why you've been shooting me dirty looks this past hour."

"I can't help my face, sir." She felt her frown tighten.

"And not bothering to say welcome back."

"I _am_ glad to see you back. But it doesn't change the fact that what you did was stupid." She took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "If we'd hit something bad, sir, we'd have been in trouble."

"I heard Poppy did okay."

"Poppy was fine, sir, but they aren't you. I don't know how they'd have handled a real crisis."

"Sabotaged circuits and collapsing decks aren't a crisis?"

She swept that away like the old news that it was. "We had a solution and a plan in place. What if the plan hadn't worked? What then, sir?"

"Poppy would have stepped in. It's not like the ship is suddenly gonna fall out of the sky." His reassuring grin only made her spine itch.

"Respectfully, sir, I'm not so sure. But that isn't my point. You tempted fate, Chief, unnecessarily. What if you hadn't come back?" She glared at him.

"We're mims, Brown. We come back." He stretched his arms wide, a demonstration of his return.

"The Mim Center makes mistakes," she snapped.

"You would know," he snorted.

"They make mistakes. All the time. What if it had taken weeks instead of days? What if they'd never managed it?"

"You know they wouldn't have bothered to reboot you," he shot back.

She couldn't suppress a flinch, but she didn't look away. She continued slowly. "So what? I would have slept the rest of the way there. This is pure selfishness, sir. My best chance is having you here, not Poppy, not anyone else."

He sighed and scrubbed his face with both his hands for a moment. "Did Nagi put you up to this?"

"What?"

"Because I already got this lecture, only a little colder and a lot sharper."

A smile snuck onto her face before she could stop it. "Then I'm right, if the captain said the same thing. Sir, I mean it. Please. Promise me you won't do anything that stupid again."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to … you get the idea." His voice switched to his normal brash tone. "How's the Bug House holding out?"

"My station is doing fine, sir," she replied primly. "But the new kid isn't working out. He needs to be shifted."

"Where? Yours is usually my last resort."

"Maybe crowd control in the Habitat Unit. He seems to like it there."

"You getting enough sleep?"

"Regulation amounts, sir."

"Sorry you had to see it."

She put on her respectful blank face, the one she wore only for him. "Sorry you had to go through it, sir."

* * *

a **/n: 1) Yes, I cheesed the topic. 2) Siamés "The Wolf" on loop. 3) Poppy, another OC created for the Whale, and killed in the crash. The crew was awesome. 4) Awww, he's worried about her getting enough sleep. For good reason. Shameless plug time! See "Twitchy Tales/Doors (fluff!) & Broken (angst!)"**

 **Need more contemplation of mims and death? Here on FanFiction, find the most recent chapters by Lanca226, "Mistakes Were Made" (I cannot say how good that dark, brutal story is).**

 **Next up: breakfast, er, lunch. Oh, you mean tomorrow? United. The crew gets thrown off a plane? Frye gets thrown off a plane! Yes!**


	29. United

**Inktober29 United**

 **a/n: Slice of life with Case, Justin, and some flavored coffee.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft, and if Nintendo sees fit to port this wonder to the Switch, Case will be my second Cross.**

* * *

The golden-haired man smiled when he spotted his friend walking towards him. His smile grew when a scent confirmed his hopes even before she spoke.

"I brought coffee. Extra shot of hazelnut for you, right?" She gingerly passed him a steaming cup.

"Thank you, Case. You're a treasure."

"I'm something, that's for sure." They stood silently, enjoying the coffee and the view of the green space across the gel moat.

"How are you enjoying being with the Interceptors?" he asked finally.

"It's great." Her face radiated joy. "You don't know how good it feels not to be bouncing from random job to random job. I was so tired of being a float. I can finally start getting good at something."

"Do you have a fixed team yet?"

She held her coffee cup close and looked away. "No. Not yet." She took a small sip and said, brightly, "How's the Mediating business?"

Justin frowned. "I must confess. I'm worried about NLA."

"Why?"

"The mood has changed since the Battle for the Lifehold, and not for the better, I fear. Deep worry has been growing in my heart." He swept an arm in a wide arc across their view of the city. "We felt so united before. But now it's breaking apart."

"Really?" Case wrinkled her nose. "Maybe it's just because of all the different missions I was on, but sometimes it felt pretty random."

"I'm serious, Case. Before, we were united in our quest to rescue the precious Lifehold. Now, people are drifting apart. The city is turning away from sacrifice and justice."

"Uptick in petty crime, huh?"

"Everything is trending that way, as far as I can see. Back to pettiness, selfishness, squabbling. Just the other day I found a new street gang."

"If anyone bothers you…" Case said in alarm.

"No, no, I'm quite capable of dealing with any small-time hooligans." He rubbed his jaw and smiled ruefully. "I _have_ been improving my combat skills, you know."

Case smiled back. "That's good. But, Justin, honestly, you know I'll always be there for you. Whatever you need."

"What if I need a symbol of justice?"

She laughed. "Sure. Fetching coffee, fighting criminal masterminds, you name it, I'll do it. Hey, remember, when we first met? You said the exact same thing. Something about me becoming famous and everyone singing my praises." She sighed. "I'd be happy if they just gave me a place on a team."

"You don't need a team to shine, Case. You'll rise above us all, given the proper need."

"If you say so."

"I'm sure of it. Better yet, I promise to help."

* * *

 **a/n: Have I mentioned how much my house loves Justin, shining golden boy? Precious nerd.**

 **Written with Doom OST "Rip &Tear" on loop. Because that's what Justin played in the last story.**

 **Next up: Found. Hello, Case, found ya!**


	30. Found

**Inktober30 Found**

 **A/n: Look what somebody found out in the wilds of Primordia.**

 **Slightly pregame.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft.**

* * *

Report: The subject (case no. 026, CN026) was found on 1032P15NOV56 in Silent Mire by the Reclaimer team assigned to retrieve a helicopter (Elma [team leader], Danny, Boris). The subject was found in good condition and was able to walk and speak within a minute of stasis release. The subject was brought back to New Los Angeles (NLA) safely.

According to the team leader's report (attached), the journey was without major incident. They encountered no signs of the hostile force that attacked ECP L-002 (White Whale). There was one encounter with indigen (copper cinicula), during which the subject was able to follow commands and showed proficiency with the weapon provided (utility knife).

The subject was described as "docile", "wary", "obedient", and "odd". No concerns were raised by the subject's lack of memories. This follows the decision for the subject to offer no knowledge of Earth or the journey to Mira. Under questioning on such topics, the subject had been directed to say, "I don't know," or simply to shake her head. The subject was not to offer suggestions to explain her lack of memory. The Reclaimer team concluded that the subject had amnesia due to stasis hangover. This conclusion was reached naturally and without external pressure.

After returning to NLA, the subject was placed in the care of the Mimeosome Maintenance Center (MMR).

Recommendations: Future stasis pods should be seeded further away from NLA. The Reclaimer team expressed surprise that it hadn't been discovered earlier. Damage to the pod's location beacon could also closely match that of naturally damaged pods. The Reclaimer team made no mention on that point, however. If resources permit, false destroyed pods could increase the validity of the setting, although teams less experienced with retrieval might not require this added distraction. To this end, Harriers or Interceptors could be better divisions when selecting for future mission assignments.

The instructions to the subject to cover all facts about non-organic origin was followed carefully. As noted above, the Reclaimer team naturally reached the conclusion that the subject had amnesia. However, they also noted that the subject was "odd". It may be preferable to give future subjects a few details to help them integrate with original mission members, either by training or direct download. Alternately, all memories of the MMC could be removed, leaving future subjects with "genuine" amnesia. Neither method was available for CN026 due to time constraints.

The subject CNO26 should transition into Builders of the Legacy After the Destruction of the Earth (BLADE) as soon as possible. A regular weekly visit to the MMR should suffice for all prototype analysis and upgrades. It is suggested that the subject claim a persistent faulty repowering connector and display fatigue regularly. Assignment to a division or team is expressly not recommended, to shield the subject from scrutiny until social skills are assessed.

Conclusion: The in-field introduction of an additional personnel was successful without revealing their no-organic origins.

Additional note, handwritten: Very positive. Begin removing memories from CN027. However, I would suggest providing him with the memory of a name. CN026's lack of imagination jeopardized the authenticity of her origin. E

* * *

 **a/n: I may have proofread the occasional proposal/paper/thing. Now we know how Case the Headcase got her name.**

 **Next up: It's the last one! Mask. No idea. If you send me a suggestion (character, location, bad joke) before 1300Z31OCT17 (I have no idea if I did that right, but noon in England on the 31st will do, pig) it could happen.**


	31. Mask

**Inktober31 Mask**

 **A/n: Not everyone is what they seemed on the Whale.**

 **This one is dark. Feel free to skip to the next for bonus silly fluff.**

 **All the good things belong to Monolith Soft. These four do not, but I'm so grateful.**

* * *

He pushed flat against the wall nearest to the door. Four people made the room cramped. A private room was a luxury on the ship, one that the boss had been sure to acquire. The kid thought his own shared quarters were more comfortable and a lot more cheerful, but they had no privacy, and the boss liked his privacy. Sometimes he needed it.

"Shoot, kid, I can't get used to your new look. Mr. W. looks different, I look different, but you look crazy. It's all kinds of wrong."

"Nothing important has changed about him," the boss stated calmly. "Nothing we can't fix when the time is right. Think of it as a mask that's helping him stay out of sight."

The kid ducked his head, trying to appear willing, not sullen or angry. He wasn't sure what he was.

The first man, Bo, laughed. "It's like Halloween. No one's what they are. One of my cousins always went as some frilly chick, the skimpier the costume the better. But no question, nothing about him was woo." He made a flirty whistle.

"Same with the kid," the boss agreed. "He's steady. Not like some of us." He turned to look dispassionately at the hunched figure, sitting on a tarp in the corner, the reason for this risky meeting. The man in question grunted and shuddered, but not in response. He was looking pretty rough. The kid and Bo had hauled him here, one on each side. It hadn't required violence, just steady direction. The man, called Five E, was so caught in his own demons, he could barely walk without the help.

"I catch wind of you two at the Mimeosome Maintenance Center," the boss continued. "Lucky the kid got there in time."

"Well, boss, you can see for yourself. He's done."

"Did I ask you to take him there?"

"He asked, honest, boss. Asked me to take him to get shut down and…"

"Did I ask you?" Mr. W repeated slowly.

The silence lasted a while, scarcely disturbed by a few moans from the corner. "No, boss."

"Excuse me, could you repeat that?"

"No, boss," Bo said clearly. "You didn't ask me to."

"And there's a reason for that." Mr. W sighed and leaned against the wall behind the single bed. "No one's paid attention to us so far, and I want it to stay that way. You ask for official aid for loser there, and official eyes will start following him, back to you, then back to all of us."

"I didn't think, boss."

"We have a problem here, _we_ solve it."

"He's not getting better, boss."

"I can see that. I had hoped a week ago…" The boss sighed again. The kid silently had to agree. He hadn't met the bodyguards before the Whale, but while Bo struck him as shallow but brutal, Five E had been nervous from the very first day of the voyage. He'd talked painfully about Earth's destruction, and as the days passed he'd repeated himself with increasing length and decreasing sanity. Now he seemed locked in a loop of misery.

"You can see why it made sense to me to let him get shut down. He _did_ ask," whined Bo.

"I'm the one giving orders," snapped the boss, shifting uncomfortably. The kid was pretty sure the boss wasn't fully resigned to his new body. The younger form lacked the force he was used to carrying. Looking at the two of them, someone might even suppose they were the same age. The kid didn't think that for a second.

The boss was done talking. He stood and moved to exit. "Batter up, kid. Do what you do," he said in passing. Bo gave him a grin and followed.

The kid lifted the iron pipe. It was awkward, nothing like what he'd swung for his high school team but the weight wasn't that different. Was it only a few months ago, last October? As he flipped the edge of the tarp over Five E, his new braids swung across his face like a curtain.

"Close your eyes. It'll be fast."

Xcxcxcxcxcxc

The kid was back in his rooms an hour later. They'd carried the tarp and its contents, Bo and him, to the location Bo had been given. It seemed risky, dropping the sagging mess behind a dumpster, but Bo had explained. There was a guy in the area that needed parts and didn't care where or how he got them. People scavenged and sold stuff to him. The tarp and everything in it would have passed through several hands before the next shift change, and each transfer moved the problem further away from them, until it wasn't anyone's problem at all.

The kid had ducked into the common bath and showered quickly. He wasn't sure what to do about his clothes, but decided they weren't too stained. He'd just have to risk washing them and hoping no one noticed. He spent a little time in front of a mirror, trying to see if his disguise had slipped. Like a real mask, he figured it would show around the eyes first. Even the best ones still let you see the little kid hiding inside. But the eyes were still the same, dark and kind and smarter than he'd ever be. His eyelids fluttered shut and he ran gentle fingers over this face. Maybe if he kept working at it, he could become more like his outside and less like whatever he was inside.

* * *

 **a/n: No, it isn't Lila, thanks for asking. But she knows who it is, and maybe someday I'll be able to write that well enough.**

 **Next up: …. Inktober is over. Long live Inktober. Have some fun-sized fluff as a palate cleanser.**


	32. Hair (bonus fun-sized fluff)

**Someone on the XCX tumblr discord offered this prompt, and I had 12 extra minutes and no brain. Enjoy.**

 **All the good stuff belongs to Monolith Soft, and I told you in Inktober 2 not to worry, things would get fixed.**

* * *

 ** _[A] always keeps their hair up in a bun/ponytail/braid, with [B] noticing it, but never put too much_ _thought in it. But during a special event (could be smut, or an anniversary, or one of the_ _characters visiting family) [B] soon sees [A] with their hair down for the first time._**

* * *

Vandham swore distinctly as he punched in his door code. He needed to change his tank and maybe grab a quick shower. He'd been splattered with "coffee" by a young Mediator and now he was sticky and reeked of hazelnut. It was pure delusion to call that beverage coffee. In his opinion, if you needed that much sugar and milk at 0100, you needed to man up and order a damn milkshake.

In the dimness he stumbled over something, and swore more vigorously, until he realized what it was. Work boots, several sizes smaller than his own. Huh. Lila must be crashing at his place tonight. He smiled. It was taking some time for her to get comfortable around him again. He was more than glad not to push her, because finally there was time to let things happen and not in a rush.

He tiptoed with surprising silence through his bedroom, hearing her sleepy breathing from the bed. He didn't flip the lights until he closed the bathroom door, and did a quick wash, trying to keep the splashing to the minimum. Unfortunately, he'd have to risk letting a peep of light into the room so he could grab a fresh tank.

He could see her now, not clearly, but enough to notice her hair. It was spilling all over his pillows. She usually kept it in a tight braid straight down her back, or sometimes bouncing in a high ponytail. When it was screwed up into a bun, he knew she probably had a meeting at Sakuraba. But here she was, and the orange streaks that she'd added for Halloween looked like fire.

He was late to the next meeting.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading  
It's been a fun run  
**


End file.
